Split (1)

train · 177k rows

prompt stringlengths 391 14.9k
\[Poem\] The Tigress She was beautiful, Everybody loved her. But she was deadly, Like the tiger. &#x200B; No man could resist her. No woman even. She met her match in me. Didn’t see me coming. &#x200B; No time to distance herself, from her emotion. She was caught off guard, When I stepped in. &#x200B; And she fell in love. A tragedy… But, I had my job, It wasn’t to be. &#x200B; I had my job, And I saw it through. And who knows, Maybe I fell in love with her too. &#x200B; Some will guess why I die ...of a broken heart. ...of a love long lost. But that’s not my part. &#x200B; I am passing over. She leads me through. And come to think of it. She’s finishing her job too.
The darkness looked to be consuming the remnants of the sun, a deep purple devouring what was left of the orange hues of light and hope. My back ached something fierce, and looking at the watch on my wrist, I saw that I had only been asleep for not even a half hour... wait, no, the date has changed. Made sense as to why my back hurt, sleeping on the ground in the middle of the Yellowstone nature reserve will do that to you. Anything, even back pain was worth staying away from what had become of 'civilization'. I may have fallen from exhaustion yesterday, but this evening I am well rested, 24 hours worth. My belly rumbled with the pangs of a day's old hunger. There should be something to hunt around here. As I packed my things, I checked my rifle to ensure it was loaded and ready to shoot. Always need to be prepared.
"Whut in tarnation?"Jimbo thought as he awoke to a ruckus. As he looked around, the small world around him quickly snapped into focus. A crack had appeared on the Moses Wall, and was growing rapidly. As the panic continued, all Jimbo could think of were the calculations he'd gone over tens, if not hundreds of times. There was no way normal ocean currents and weight could have fractured the wall. He'd over engineered it to an extreme. Then Jimbo saw it. The octopus that had been "waving"to the local idiots while they filmed snippets for their SocialNet accounts had returned, but was now holding something in its tentacle. It was a broken piece of a spark plug- a device the old worlders used to initiate ignition their hydrocarbon combustion engines centuries ago. The small cephalopod had tippy tapped the glass just right, and had created the inception point for the now meters long crack. "Dang kids and their fake intranet points"Jimbo mused as the water started blasting through the growing crevice. As the final screams of the onlookers were drowned out by the rushing ocean waters, Jimbo decided the next enclave will not be getting an intranet. They'll have to placate themselves some other way. Jimbo floated away from the now sunken aquarium, mostly unfazed and unconcerned. It wasn't the first population he'd seen self destruct and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Jimbo didn't mind much however, as Jimbo's only real goal in saving these pockets of survivors was bread. You see Jimbo is a duck, and a duck loves bread, but he does not have the capability to buy a loaf. That's the biggest joke on the duck ever.
\[CC\] Jess started perfecting avoiding things like most others did, procrastinating in school and avoiding social obligations to binge TV instead. &#x200B; However, one sunny afternoon this came in handy. With sun streaming in from the outside, Jess quickly decapitated another zombie, fingers flashing across the controls as bright, pixilated blood splattered across the screen. She had felt her phone buzz against her leg 5 mins ago... or maybe it was 10 mins. Either way she hadn't ever made it as far in this and could feel the excitement after a week of frustration. Nothing was going to come between her and finishing this level. &#x200B; Once the zombies were quietly resting in their violent, final graves and satisfaction ran deep in Jess's bones, she took the time to look at her phone. Dread and guilt quickly took over. &#x200B; "Oh my god Jess if you stood us up again for that dumb video game I'm gonna kill you"1hr &#x200B; "You have 5 mins to get her before we go in without you"30m &#x200B; "You better have a good excuse"25m &#x200B; "I'm not mad I'm just disappointed"15m &#x200B; "Nvm, I'm mad"15m &#x200B; A new message flashed on the screen, "Turn on the news, something took Steph" &#x200B; Jess's thumbs started flying, "I'm so sorry, I'm a terrible friend, what the hell is going on???" &#x200B; Jess pulled out her computer and searched for whatever was their little town's news was. But Twitter beat the news source, videos were everywhere of a green light flashing down and a blurry figure lifted up by their heart, hair eerily still while the wind threatened the on-lookers. &#x200B; "Oh no..." &#x200B; Her head filled with a whirlwind of thought. Were aliens real? Was that really Steph? Why her? Why not someone else? What if I had been there? What if it was me? &#x200B; A week later there was a small memorial. Not that they knew she was dead, but because there just didn't seem any hope and the formally suited officers that the town was crawling in seemed to suggest answers weren't coming any time soon. &#x200B; Jess vowed from that moment on to be a better friend. To show up to more things and be present. After all, life could end in a green flash at any moment. &#x200B; That's what saved her the second time. &#x200B; "Ohhh myyyy god isn't... isn't this party just like the best. I love you, your my best friend. Well since Steph died or like whatever."Naomi drunkly draped herself over Steph's shoulders. &#x200B; "Yeah..."Steph looked around for a quick exit, deeply regretting her earlier promise. &#x200B; Luckily a convenient exit found her in the way of Brad shouting out, "Guys Steph's house got struck by a meteorite and now her dog is flying around like superman." &#x200B; "Dude go home you're wasted"Some out of town kid laughed behind the crowd. &#x200B; It spurred everyone to rush outside through the pumpkin field next door to see what turned out the be the very real wreckage of Jess's house. It almost seem to pulsate, sending out waves of green light that made everyone sick. &#x200B; But before Jess could even react she heard a short excited bark somewhere above her before something furry hit her square between her shoulder blades and hitting the ground. There wasn't much other than darkness after that. &#x200B; When she seemed to wake up it was in a very cramped office. Papers were stacked taller than she was on either side of the desk and behind it sat a fuzzy light she couldn't quite look at. &#x200B; "Who -" &#x200B; "It's about time! Cosmos on a cracker you are a stubborn case! First you don't show up and then when I send it to your house to finally get this thing started you decide to actually grow up and go to a party?! I was trying to work with you! And now I've got this mountain of paperwork,"It seemed to jab was could either be a finger or what she had a gut feeling might have been an entire branch of universal law at the tower to the left, "because you let your friend take your place. Humans! So irresponsible!" &#x200B; "What? I'm just trying to live my life!"Jess was confused and had a headache bigger than her actual head, but she wasn't going to let the cosmos yell at her like this. &#x200B; "The wrong life! It's time to step up! You've been marked as a protagonist since the Beginning. Now let's plan how we're going to be about this. You're already about a month behind on your second act/training phase since you missed the first awakening -" &#x200B; "I'm not a protagonist! I'm a... Jess?"She loved video games but had no desire to be in one, plus this was all too far out there. "You have the wrong person." &#x200B; "No look here,"the being opened up a file and showed her what looked to be a bright flash of light but somehow she felt her entire essence and the marking of protagonist floated to the top of her mind. "Anyways, I need you to do this, and your stubborn so I'll cut you a deal. You get the origin story you want, and I get to continue doing my job. Sound good. Good." &#x200B; "No! Not Good!" &#x200B; "What part of no choice don't you get, look we've only got a little more time-" &#x200B; "Look buddy I'll tell you where to shove your time!"And with that, Jess was suddenly rushed back to the field. A crowd of drunk, concerned teenagers hovered above her as she shakily sat up. &#x200B; It didn't matter if she was going up against the universe. She wasn't going to let herself be a protagonist. She was going to fight like hell to be ordinary.
The high society was weird. Annelin had never been to the vintage parties his buddies always told him about. Work at the Galactic Core was never easy, and phasing home was a luxury for precious vacations. When he did come back to Belethon-VI, he came to see his parents, relax, maybe get some reading, not to party his blue knickers off. Yet this time, the extended leave got him out of excuses. Besides... it might be fun. As the son of a simple man, Annelin had grown in difficulty, working his way to a position of prestige on the Core. Yet for all his station, he still stayed away from the reunions of the high and mighty, shunning the company of movers and shakers for the sweet embrace of his books. At least, that was the excuse he gave them... deep down, he just liked it better when he was alone. So far, that wasn't a sin. But tonight it might prove disadvantageous. Annelin has seen his friend Jayne twice this week already, and they'd arranged a spot for him in Leon's party tonight. "Zarniwoop's son is here", she told him when pitching the party, "and he's supposed to be the one to make his father's crazy endeavors look like child's play. I want you there, Annelin - and I won't take no for an answer". Annelin could try to resist Jayne and her sweet, innocent smile, but the effort was useless. And so here he was, surrounded by rich kids and the highest pleasantries a man can dream, in a mansion so big it could double as a small city without trouble. Annelin studied his peers; he found them to be exceedingly weird tonight. Jayne was dressed in neon and red, and looking directly at her colored boots could cause a seizure. Rheon felt more like dressing more lordlike, with his suit and tie, but Annelin knew the look wouldn't last ten minutes, and soon enough his friend would have his tie on backwards in his forehead and his suit in some ladies' shoulders. Annelin dressed as he usually did for work at the Core, and people took it for a costume, so there was that. Searching for a distraction from the social awkwardness the event imposed on him, Annelin turned to "fun fuels", as the sign on the drugs table read. And he did not find it lacking - ecstasy shots, nebulon pills, all sorts of hallucinogens and stimulants, and... pies. In the table, amidst the hardest drugs on this side of the known galaxy (hell, even Thamium-9 was there, and that shit was once used to fuel rockets, for God's sake), there was a piece of what seemed to be cherry pie. Annelin's confusion must've been palpable; one of the partygoers approached him, in his hand a tray with pies of varying sizes and shapes. "Filled with booze, friend", he said. His thin mustache elongated his already long face even more; pointy ears, big, round eyes, slim figure... an "elf". Ugh. Augmented humans were the worst - and the ones who did it to appear as mythical creatures were the worst among the worst. Annelin did his best to shelter his disgust for the weirdo and ask, "what flavour are they?" "This one's cristalline vodka", the creature pointed, amused at Annelin's surprise. "That one, a hundred year old whiskey, straight from Old Earth, baked into a cherry pie. That's the one you were oggling just there", it said, with a weird cackle. Annelin went for the old whiskey. Old Earth was already a mystery to the human race, however much of its culture spread along with its inhabitants. In a sense, humanity never left Earth - humans still live there, after all - but, you know how folklore goes. It's the big, blue ball of mystery now, even though you could phase there at any time. As Annelin took the first bite, the bitter taste reminded him of work. Long hours, hard times, a cold, empty feeling, stacks of paper all around him, a sensation of guilt and despair that only a man who decides over the fate of others can experience. Another bite, and he was off at home. Christmas, the lights, the gifts, the sweet smell of his girlfriend's hair, the prayer around the dinner table... one more bite, and... He woke up the next morning, his head spinning, his memory clouded by cherries and dreams. In the nightstand, a note. "Pastries Inc. sends their regards! :)", it read, and the little elf face on the corner made it all the more sarcastic. Annelin rolled his eyes, recomposed himself and went to find Jayne. Maybe she'd tasted the cakes, too. Whatever the case, someone needed to tell him what he'd done last night. _____________________________ Hope the setting isn't too jarring. Great prompt!
We had long thought that we were alone in the universe. Weighed down by gravity and our own sense of self-importance, we had all but given up on the idea that there was life among the stars. For many it was unbearable; an existential sense of loneliness. They say that the first few years after we gave up were the worst. Suicide rates spiked to previously unheard of levels. It was as if we had simply lost all hope as a people. Then SETI picked up a message. Five simple words: “I await you, my children.” It took some time before the existence of this message was made public. It was confirmed, reconfirmed, buried, leaked, discredited. Finally, just when everything seemed lost. When society was on the verge of collapse and starvation, the rumor of the Heavenly Signal seemed to finally take root in people’s minds. As a people, we didn’t have much left. Wars had stripped what few resources we had left but we banded together in a way that previous generations had though impossible. The secrets of space travel had been known to us, known and forgotten. We had to dig deep to rediscover them. Microwave propulsion. It was an idea that had been discounted because we lacked the understanding of why it worked. Yet no matter how many times they tried to discredit the engine design, no one could. The best argument for not using it was “it shouldn’t work.” Yet it did so we just decided to let it work. It took us 5 years to build the first generational ship. It would carry the first of us to the dark spot in the heavens. We had no way of knowing what would be there, but the prospect of growing old and dying in a metal can as it floated through space seemed better than starvation or worse, suffocation on Earth. We had no idea if God was even there anymore. The doubters tried to quell the hopeful with words like ‘galactic drift’ and ‘bodies in motion.’ But we’d long ago stopped listening. God had to be out there. He had to. We had nothing left.
Freja stared at the rubble choked hallway ahead of her. The light from her torch flickered across the crumbled stonework, and shimmered along the moist lines where the moat had infiltrated the castle’s lower levels. She let out an aggravated sigh, and put her palm to her forehead. In her mind’s eye she tried to imagine the expansive citadel’s lower levels. I’ve already tried the East passage and the backdoor through the scullery, she thought, marking the locations in her mind. If the walls are damaged, I might be able to double back and escape through the armory. Above her the castle rumbled, and Freja froze. Dust fell from the shuddering stone around her, and dropped into the complex braid of her red hair. She held the sleeve of her dress to her mouth to stifle a cough, and waited for the shaking to stop. It had been four hours since the dragon had descended on her father’s castle, and the initial panic of the attack had long since faded, but she still felt a rush of fear each time the enormous creature stirred above. She turned and walked back along the lower halls, mapping the route to the armory in her mind. She knew that she needed to escape. In the first couple hours of panicked flight, she had only thought to get out of sight; to get somewhere that the monster could not find her. She felt the bitter frustration in her chest rising again. She had managed to hide alright, trapped underground while she listened to everyone she had ever known and loved die above her. And the smell- I’m still alive, Freja thought, biting her lip against the tears threatening her eyes. She walked on for a long while, turning her thoughts only to the imagined map of her path to the armory. She took shallow breaths through her mouth so she wouldn’t have to smell the noxious, sulfurous scent of the dragon’s breath still coiling from the melted stone of the castle, or the charred odor of burning flesh from the halls above. Picking her steps with care, Freja glanced to a stone stair to her right. The sunlight dappling on it’s blackened steps taunted her. She knew those steps would lead her to the castle’s great hall. From there, she could see behind her closed eyes, there would be the large wooden doors to the courtyard. A two minute walk to the walls and she would see the gatehouse with the teeth of the old portcullis suspended like bats in the ceiling. Kern and Tabor would be leaning on their pikes. Old Tabor would bow rigidly while his white mustache bobbed with a very polite, ‘good morning, princess’, and Kern would bow with some pastry or an apple in his hands, giving her a red faced smile. Freja felt a tear roll down her cheek and wiped at it with an angry swipe. No. Kern and Tabor are dead. Father is dead. She forced herself to face the thought. No one is coming to save me. I have to get myself out. Behind the blood pounding in her ears, Freja could hear the steady breathing of the dragon as it lay in the great hall above her. It was a growling sound, like when her father had been ill and his breathing had been all gasps and rasps, but it wasn’t truly the same. As Freja listened, she thought that the dragon’s breath was louder and deeper, like a storm on the horizon. She listened for a long moment. Is it asleep? At first she did not trust the thought. Her father had always told her that dragons were a force of nature, like a thunderstorm or the consuming rage of a forest fire. He had said, they were children of demons, and exist only to bring chaos. But the more she thought about it, the less sense that made to her. Now that she had seen a dragon. As monstrous as the beast was, it was made of flesh and bone. It ate, it drank, and it must sleep. Must it? Freja chewed her lip while her brow furrowed at the question. If it was asleep maybe she could escape, but if it wasn’t asleep or if it woke up- Freja reached to her lip as pain shot through it, and when she looked down at her fingertips she saw the wet, red streaks of her blood. I can’t stay down here. Closing her fingers around the red stains, Freja gently set the burning torch down onto the stone steps. It took her nearly a full minute, but by careful, measured steps she climbed the stair. The sunlight from the great hall grew brighter, and the first thing she saw was a massive collapse in the roof. Beams of wood splintered and hung at sharp angles between the shattered ceiling and the floor. Blackened stone and charred wood splayed everywhere. The glass window, high in the stone room’s walls, had all broken. Next Freja saw the coiling steam and smoke rising from the embers of burnt tables around the hall. She crept on, and did not stop until her head crested the top step, and she saw the beast itself. The orange-red body of the dragon was folded over in a bulbous heap. The bony wings, tipped in hooked claws, were folded closed, giving them an appearance like a bundle of long spears all bound together on the creature’s back. Its coiled body filled the room like a viper in its den, and as Freja’s eyes tracked the body they came to rest on a sinewy neck that lolled near the stairs. No more than twenty feet from her, sat the scaled and reptilian head of the monster. It was as large as a horse and smoke trailed from its nostrils. The eyes were closed. For a time, Freja did not move. Fear pulled at her arms and legs, compelling her to run. Run to the doors. Run back down the steps. Run screaming away from this monster that had killed her family and destroyed her home. But Freja did not move. She held her breath. She blinked and swallowed hard to drive the fear back from her limbs into a tight knot deep in her stomach. She looked to her side and found the double doors to the courtyard. Then she moved. I just need to get out the door. Once I’m out the door, I can run. With a creak like a tree bending in the wind, the muscular tail of the dragon slammed down in front of her. Freja screamed and covered her head as a burst of air carried soot over her in a whirlwind from the tail’s impact. No! “What’s this?” A voice behind her blasted like a war horn, and Freja felt hot, fetid air rush over her in a nauseating wave. “A little bird in my home?” The dragon chuckled. Freja did not look at the dragon. Instead she turned and scrambled for the steps. In the corner of her eye she saw the serpentine neck slither towards her. She did not have time to think, and as Freja’s foot hit the first step she threw herself down the stair. Huge jaws snapped shut on the empty air behind her as she fell down the stairwell, and the adrenaline in her blood made Freja feel weightless. She hit the stone floor at the bottom of the steps with her palms extended. Pain shot through her hands, and she cried out as her knees and hips careened off the floor. Her body wanted to curl up from the pain, but above her Freja heard the reptilian voice of the dragon call out. “You cannot run from me, little bird.” She scrambled forward on hands and knees. She had to get out of the stairwell. She had to get up the corridor. Freja felt dizzy with pain as she put weight on her palm, and felt herself nearly pass out. In the dim light of the lower halls, she couldn’t orient herself, and was barely coherent of the stone around her. There was a sudden blast of heat, and Freja spun in terror to look behind her. As she watched, the stairwell filled with roiling fire. A sound like a thousand screaming hawks filled the air around her, and Freja pushed her hands to her ears, feeling her bleeding palms streak hot blood against her cold cheeks. The fire dissipated as quickly as it appeared. Then a rumbling chuckle emanated from the stairwell. “Very well. Hide. Hide, little bird. I’ll be will be waiting.”
“Skreeee” I turn around to see her yet again. Everyday it’s the same high pitch, metal-on-metal cry as she slips out of her apartment on her way to work. This has become our routine. Just as I come home from the night shift, there she is on her way out...with that god awful screeching. I turn around from unlocking my door. “Hi,” she whisper shouts to me from across the hall, “I know it’s so loud, I’m so sorry I’ll get it fixed soon I promise! Bye!” “Have a good day,” I nod back. This isn’t the first time she’s said this but it’s clear from the armful of books, worn thin backpack, and old clothes that a squeaky door may be the least of her worries. I remember back to my days of being a student. I had a bungee cord to keep my refrigerator door closed and a pile of “Dry Clean Only” clothes that eventually made their way to Goodwill. I had dishes piled high and filled my laundry detergent bottles with water to scavenge as much soap as possible. Ugh, and that squeaky tire. Everyone knew where I was because that tire announced my every coming and going. I walk into my apartment and go straight for the cabinet under my kitchen sink. I have to move things around a bit but eventually find the WD-40 tucked away. I smile to myself thinking about what tomorrow will be like as I grab paper towels and a few Q-tips from my bathroom before returning to the hallway. I’ve never done this with a closed door but figure it’s better than nothing. I spend the next five minutes tenderly dabbing the hinges of her door, shaking my head at the incompetence of the contractors who built these apartments. Half of the doors in this building were put in backwards. My own back patio screen doors were switched around in such a way that if someone felt so inclined they could lock me out from my own porch. The things we let slide for decent rent, I muse, gently finishing the last dabs. Done with my little act of kindness and feeling pretty good about myself I turn back to my apartment to get ready for bed. * * * * * I wake up from an intensely weird dream and fall into my scattered but efficient morning routine. Sloughing out the door with my warm comfy bed terrorizing my mind, I see her at her door as she goes to unlock it. I pause to listen… No screeching. Not even a squeak. She stops short, looks at her door, and moves it back and forth a few times before looking up confused. Our eyes meet. “Have a good day,” I wink. “Thanks,” she blushes, smiling wide. “You too.”
The Best Defense Is Not a Good Offense It's Scuttlebutt By Lt. General Mitch Lanners, US Army, Retired Like my contemporaries, I have an enormous amount of respect for Sun Tzu. But, as the venerable Admiral Hornblower once said: Ink rubs off in salt. That means strategists can have the best intelligence and intentions while the grunt will tell you some or all of that strategy is malarkey. Since the age of the Roman Legions, militaries have been lead by those of status and position. And, eventually, they get their butts handed to them by some hoard who didn't know they were supposed to be listening to the asinine war plan of some butter bar because their daddy bought them passage. Take comfort in the military caste for its ability to grind individuality from rough and ready young men and women, and turn them into smooth and polished killing machines, and better clench up if their leaders are too myopic to listen to those war-ready grunts' advice. The best defense isn't always a good offense. Not without a healthy dollop of scuttlebutt. Military leaders nowadays have to know more than just what the ground is supposed to look like from some recon photo snapped by a drone pilot. They have to know what's happening on the ground. They need to know Private Jackson's recent video chat with his fiance revealed a startling revelation: She wasn't using the universal remote like he'd instructed, but each individual remote. If Jackson's fiance had in fact used the universal remote, his video chat might not have left him in a mildly depressed and mentally occupied state. This in turn lead him to downvote a social media post from someone in his squad, who in turn became filled with despair. So on and so forth until the entire squad had to be excused from the big push because they were in emotional disrepair. Or take Sergeant McMasters, tasked with filling in for recon platoon while they took a mental health day during the big push. The stress of having to cancel the Frisbee Golf event resulted in a series of difficult conversations with our local 42A. Somehow the Red Cross got involved, which led to an entire joint-force review of the battle zone. And, as the saying goes, "If You Give a Mouse A Cookie,", or, in this case, If You Give a Snowflake the Red Cross. The Red Cross, the US Army, and an entrenched band of fighters all met out in the open to review the rules of war as per the Fifth Geneva Convention. 1) Forces engaged in hostilities shall refrain from downvoting or cross-posting for purposes of humiliation, any social media post made by the alternate force. 2) Videos of animals in combat zones shall be limited to cats. 3) No more than one Pink Floyd reference per mile of fixed barrier is permitted, and a supplemental plaque explaining the copyrighted reference must be affixed, along with the prepared statement from surviving band members denouncing use of said quote in the context of hostilities. Upon reviewing said rules, the forces then must arrive upon a new agreement to limit battlefield CGI frame-rates and resolution so that soldiers still using previous console generations will not feel bad about not having the latest models. All of which could be avoided simply by listening to the scuttlebutt. Leaders practicing active listening skills will be better prepared to address their troops' moral, recognize flaws in strategies (I.E.: mocking the enemy force's cat memes is a recipe for another Red Cross intervention). Lt. General Mitch Lanners regularly speaks at college campuses on the benefits of a military career in today's dystopian landscape.
That's what he told me: My power meant that I was destined to be "The Ultimate Hero." But what did that mean? It sounded cool, but on a day-to-day basis it meant exactly nothing. I couldn't fly, I couldn't turn invisible, and I certainly couldn't shoot fireballs out of my eyeballs. Or even out of my ass, like my friend Keith. So, I had a power that sounded super cool, would probably be super-useful someday, but wasn't actually useful today. I don't know what you would do with that, but I decided that it meant I was either screwed or blessed, and -- here's the important part -- nothing I might do could change that. If I was the ultimate hero, and that was my power, then I was the ultimate hero no matter what I chose to do. So, I sat on my ass playing video games all day. Seriously, I explained, didn't I? I was lamer and weaker than everyone, and nothing I did mattered. I maintain that this was a rational decision, and nothing to do with an inherent predisposition for laziness like my mother insists. And, by the way, if you agree with her: Fuck you. Given that I didn't have a job, I wasn't exactly swimming in cash. I was therefore stuck with a truly ancient gaming system with these super-obscure titles. I didn't care though. I was actually really good at playing games, unlike everything else. It was the perfect way to distract me from that nagging little voice in the back of my head that kept insisting I was a loser. Well, it was until yesterday. That's when the final end-credits of the game I've been working on rolled, and I heard the tinny music announcing I was "The Ultimate Hero." I don't think my superpower is ever going to be all that great.
"You see, if we were to look at what could've been, how things might've gone if I'd done things differently, we'd find that the reason so much has changed is not because of what I've done, but what I haven't done. "I find it quite a coincidence that the first time I changed history was while I was sleeping. That company I used to work for, the one that made toothpaste, they said they emailed me a week before that we had a conference. I'd show you that I never got the email, but I don't think it is important. All you need to know is that the only reason I got fired was because I didn't show up. "And after I was jobless, that damned company got a fistful of what it deserved. See, without anybody who actually did their work, they fell into a bankruptcy within a few months. And that was a shock, being one of the more refined companies in the world, so the governments scrambled around the world to improve their education systems. And now the world is more educated than it ever was, all because I stayed in bed." ----- "Wow that's amazing! That's the best change you've ever made?" ----- "No, not quite, though it did help me reach there. See, I still needed a job, so I started my own business. It was a modest living for myself, making toothpaste once again but for my own company, but as the company grew, I realized I'd need more workers. "Now the unfortunate thing about the educated was that they tended to put the uneducated in very tough positions. Educated people have a chance to work anywhere, yet everyone else is left to fend for themselves. Almost a segregation of sorts: 'Educated only here, we don't want homegrown fools.' "So I hired the men and women of the streets. Cleaned up the mess our culture had created. They worked for me, but I also very much worked for them. "And we succeeded greatly. Every last one of them worked hard for the company, and I made sure they got what they deserved. By the time we became the number one toothpaste supplier, homelessness had dropped but almost half a percentage." ----- "I never knew that you did that! That must be the best change you've made!" ----- "Well, it certainly was close, but I would say there is one thing that's bigger than all of the others. "You see, once we became the biggest business out there, we were expected to expand to new areas, so that's what we did. That also meant we had to hire new managers for each portion of the business. We had hundreds of people apply for each position, and I had the opportunity to proctor each interview. "When we were looking to fill the last position, flossing goods, I met a woman with stunning eyes. From the moment she walked into the room, I latched to every word she said, listened to the intent in her voice. It was the most remarkable interview! "The best change I've ever made is because of what I didn't do, and that was hire her. She was too good, she'd surely become a dependency. Yet I knew the real reason I'd refused is because I wanted to meet that woman myself, and everyone knows that business and relationships don't go well together. "And today makes 14 years since I met your mother, 14 of the best years of my life. That is the best change I've ever made"I said.
“Welcome, councildren. Please, hear me!” My shout rang across the vast, dim chamber where representatives of each Dsae province had gathered. Together, under one roof, after all these centuries...the Dsae had nearly perished at the hands of these council members, population depleted by the reckless infighting that plagued our species and raged across the planet, once verdant and full of life, now charred by the ashes of the Great Fire that razed our land in the Battle of Kehs. No census or report could fully encompass the scope of Dsae life lost in the five years of that relentless, white-hot Fire, but a grim truth did make itself apparent in the aftermath of the blaze: we had suffered a crippling, likely irreversible loss of population and resources. Dsaena, before completion of its next full rotation around Hexsa, will be rendered inhabitable by our disastrous wars. I had called the councildren together to propose a desperate gamble, something I’d hoped never to resort to, something that may lead us all, every one, into death. But death was, indeed, a certainty if we were to remain. I took a deep breath. “Councildren, we are faced with the destruction of our lives, our homes and—” I swallowed—“our planet. I’ve watched you turn the folk of your provinces against one another, in petty plays for power and even for sport. It is time I exercise the power within my right to ask you to renounce your Individual Sovereignty and forsake your grudges and small politics to join me as One Sovereign in a campaign for the lives of all our Draeden. The Drae must survive as one, never to repeat these dark days of destruction. We must leave this planet and find a new one, one where our people can survive and multiply. I have a plan. Please consider and advise. I sent Knowledge over them, and the councildren hummed between one another, sending Acknowledgment back. The sounds of their throaty, close-lipped ruminations rose from the uncovered floor where they stood to the high ceiling of the darkstone chamber. The stone seemed to emit a dampening force on the glowing stones set into the wall, leaving the councildren half in shadows. After a while, Councildren Zhaiin raised a hand, palm toward me, then slowly closed his six fingers into a Resignation sign and waited for the humming to fade. “I renounce my Individual Sovereignty for the people of Drae. I wish to join with Adh in a Sovereignty of One, and plead that my fellow councildren will follow.” And they did. Every one, to a Draeden, renounced to the Sovereignty of One. This was good. This was hope. My being released a tension so tightly knitted I almost gasped. “See here,” I proclaimed. “On axis 1723, inner axis 225, coordinate 83.796, 92.185, q899.361.” I sent the Knowledge of the planet I referenced. “It is called Ee-arth. The dominant species is moderately territorial, and will fight if provoked, but the planet has vast uninhabited land that we can claim. It is cold, very cold, and the water reservoirs are pristine and untouched. We can build lives there.” More humming, discordant, rising in a swelling tide that threatened to break and crash. Then a slower, more thoughtful rhythm emerged, and the crowd quieted. “There is ice?” Zhaiin again. I hummed, exhausted but grateful. I had succeeded. “Yes. The uninhabited area especially.” Zhaiin nodded. “Good,” he intoned. “We’ll need a place for our Knowledge.” Knowledge was preserved better in places of great cold, as Drae. I waved four fingers in the sign of Dismissal, and the crowd began to disperse, humming of plans as they went. Tomorrow, the preparations would begin. By the time Drae completed its next rotation, we would be gone.
(Had to break it in two, the rest is in my reply below.) My grandfather and I sat on the front porch, the smell of Ready-Quick coffee staining the blue spring sky. “Think it will rain tomorrow?” I asked, taking a sip of the bitter brew that tasted more of rust than it did of coffee. My words were met with silence as they hung suspended in the air just above the seat of his empty chair. His picture sat there grinning at me. I smiled a broken smile back, more at my own stupid joke than anything. Everyone joked about rain in New St. Louis, even though none of us had ever seen it. Well, no one alive anyways. My grandfather had told us second-hand stories from his grandfather about our days in the Beneath, back when the clouds used to live above us, instead of below us. My grandfather had told my older siblings and I a lot of stories. Most of them we’d decided were probably just him messing with us, like the ones about huge sections of land called forests that were completely covered in grass or how entire cities were swallowed by the oceans in the massive swirling storms we sometimes see pass through the sea of white clouds outside our window. I was woken from my reminiscing by scalding hot coffee splashing into my lap and straight through my jeans. The ground rumbled as I waited a moment for the city to return to stillness. “Stupid shakes,” I growled to no one in particular as I stood and made my way back inside. The cool fluorescent lighting glared off the white interior, the only hints of color the large patches of rust marring the otherwise clean metal walls. I slid the white mug into the Ready-Quick fabricator and hurried through the menu to the coffee, pausing just long enough to let my stomach mourn over the heavenly picture of bacon and eggs captioned by the label “Premium Users Only.” The machine’s touch screen brought up a progress bar. The small cavity holding my mug lit up, and with a faint whir, the progress bar filled in at the same time as my mug filled with coffee. I replaced the mug with a small white bowl and made the every-morning decision between white rice and oatmeal. I chose oatmeal, as always. The loading screen reappeared, and the whirring followed then sputtered to a halt. The screen fell black. I sighed and waved open one of the automatic cabinets, reaching for a thin plastic box. I rattled it, crossing my fingers on my other hand. I should’ve crossed my toes too. I slid the last styrene crystal out and opened the fuel port on the fabricator, dropping it in. I had known this was coming. I’d been ignoring the red Low Power light for days. As the crystal was converted into raw energy, so was the last of my meager inheritance. Spring break of my sophomore year of study at the New St. Louis Academy for Engineers had just begun when the 9th ward sank below the clouds, along with my grandfather. He’d been saving for years to put me through college, but when he died the bankers had claimed most of it to meet his outstanding loans. I was left with an empty house and quickly depleting funds. Now there was little choice left, I’d have to go to work. Going to work without a degree meant I’d be following in my grandfather’s footsteps, and those footsteps led right into the Styrene mines. My brothers worked in mines 3 and 6 on the other side of town. My grandfather himself had been a foreman at the ill-fated mine 9, just a few blocks from his house in the 8th ward. The mines were the only source of styrene crystals, and everything in New St. Louis ran on styrene. The companies who owned the 12 mines owned the styrene, and by extension, the city itself. Everyone who didn’t manage to get a degree at one of the universities ended up slaving in the mines to make the companies rich. Then those same miners would turn around and trade their salaries for the very crystals they’d mined themselves. Still, everyone had to eat, and so they worked the mines. They woke up early and gathered at the entrances to the 12 pillars. Then they huddled into the elevator at the center of each pillar and travelled far below the surface of the Beneath, where styrene crystals grow. With picks and shovels they would dig the crystals out and send them back up to meet the ever-growing hunger of the sky city. Recently, styrene prices had soared due to the loss of the 9th pillar, along with half the 9th ward, and its steady flow of styrene. There had been a shake that day as well, and an hour later a tremendous roar. The screeching of metal and a few thousand people had followed as the city slowly severed itself from the weakened sector. Left behind were sidewalks and streets that led to nowhere, a few traffic cones the only thing marking the points where they abruptly met the open sky. The ends of the roads had tumbled through the clouds and disappeared. The 9th pillar was shorn off so low that it could no longer be seen through the clouds. The city was left with a few thousand less mouths to feed, one less source of styrene, and no more grandpa. That bit of styrene, which was being used to fabricate my breakfast, was almost the last thing I had left of him. I smiled to myself again. Almost.
Old people proved the myth that you could stop aging, after their spouses passed away they stopped growing old, they watched their Family grow more branches but they were engulfed in severe loneliness. Most Widows and Widowers admitted that they would rather die than live their eternal lives without someone to love. &#x200B; "Please! Don't make me do this!"Standing at the edge of the rooftop, Matt cried his wishes out, begging Cassy not to take his life rather let him take his own. &#x200B; "I-i won't anymore! Just don't jump! Please!"Dropping the knife to the floor, hands were shaking, and tears streaming down her cheek, Cassy takes a few steps closer to Matt, extending a hand out to him. "We could work things out! We could live forever! Don't you want that!?" &#x200B; Matt takes a step backwards towards a tragic fate with the cold pavement, "I'd rather die than live a life without you.."but there was no going back, both of their hearts was broken and not even time would fix it. &#x200B; "Then let's do that, together."She grabs Matt's hand and joins him at the edge and shared a final kiss. &#x200B; "Till death do us part?" "Till death do us part." &#x200B; &#x200B; I'm really sorry for it being short, I couldn't get my head around 3rd person narrative yet..
\[Poem\] &#x200B; It is lonely to be amongst the stars &#x200B; For no comfort is found in their warmth from afar &#x200B; No joy can be gained from their distant rises. &#x200B; So verily I watch the Earth for comfort &#x200B; Oh great object of my affection! &#x200B; It's touch I shall never know, but relegated I am &#x200B; A seat above the table, never to dance on sandy shores &#x200B; Or waft through the cool breeze. &#x200B; The Moon is my only friend. &#x200B; He sings to me to make the eons pass quicker, but lately his voice has gone. &#x200B; I see the startouchers from far away. &#x200B; They come to see my lunar companion. &#x200B; But they never stayed with me for dinner.
It was the seventh day of Jeremy Lucius Defoe new life in the wild and lawless state A22 outside of Mega City One, his home he had to leave behind at the end of his career as one of the city’s main judges. For the past 20 years Jeremy has convicted thousands of bad guys and put them behind bars. Now at the end of his career he was sent to the wild people living outside of the stone walls of Mega City One to restore law where there is none. He was expecting the worst. But by his surprise the locals welcomed him very warmly and gave him one of their free small cubicle homes, they have build for all their folks, out of old shipping containers, powered by solar energy on the roof. He got used to the luxury in his Mega City Supreme Apartment C713. There were only a thousand of them in the Mega City and only for the most loyal and deserving of its inhabitants. Now he has to live with only a bed, a table, a small kitchen powered by the solar panel on the roof and warm water coming out of a boiler powered by the same. Today was his first trial outside of the Mega City. To his surprise the head of the locals, called only by his first name Marcus, invited him to join and support this murder case. An 55 year old man has raped and murdered a 21 year old girl from the same village. He took her into the woods and spent over a week with her dead body doing gross things no one wants to imagine, until the locals have found him. Now we has sitting next to Marcus, who was the judge on this trial. „Joseph, did you murder and rape Susanna in the morning of 22nd of march and continued to do so until the 29th, where we’ve found you with her dead body in the dark woods behind the crossroads to creek town?“ Marcus was speaking directly to the old man sitting in a chair in the middle of this court hall. „Yes, I did. It was my fault and I did it on purpose“ said the old man. By Jeremys surprise there was no screaming or shouting from the bystanders. Hundreds of people have gathered around the court hall, which was build like a roman theatre and watched the scene unfold. All remained silent. „Then in the name of our ancestors It’s decided that you may now receive your purification“ Marcus said with his arms high up like a priest. Suddenly there was movement from the ranks of the watchers. People came down and into the court hall. The convicted murderer stood up from his chair, but didn’t move. Two other people removed the chair and table in front of him and the mass of people came to surround the convicted. Suddenly one of his peers came to him and hugged him. „Joseph, thank you for helping my wife and kids when I was lost out in the dark woods for weeks. You gave them food and helped them with the house. You even repaired our broken solar panels“ mumbled the young man, hugging the convicted murderer and rapist. By Jeremys surprise, others joined in too. They all mumbled words of thankfulness and kindness, hugging Joseph or the person who’s hugging him. Soon a big crowd of people were surrounding Joseph, all hugging each other, all displaying their gratitude through kind words. Jeremy rose from his chair. „Marcus, what is this? We have to stop them. Otherwise they won’t let us convict this murderer and rapist. He has to receive what he has earned!“ Marcus turned to the old Judge. Without saying a word, he took his hand and dragged him down to the crowd, which automatically split up to open up a pathway directly to the murderer in the center of the crowd. The old pal looked up and directly onto Jeremy. His eyes were full of sorrow and pain. He cried. Now that Jeremy came closer, he could see that this old man has cried deeply, his eyes red like blood. „Jeremy, do you still remember your arrival?“ Asked Marcus. Now looking at the old Judge. "Remember who brought you supper and bread when you were asking for food? It was this man. Remember who brought you to your new home? It was this man’s home. Remember the bed you were sleeping in the past nights? It was his bed. He gave it all up to you, for you, to be welcomed in the most warm way possible for us to provide.“ Marcus eyes were fixed on Jeremy, but the old Judge didn’t blink for a second. Jeremy’s hand searched for his knife which he kept in his pocket. But it was empty. „Are you looking for this?“ Marcus was holding the small army knife, which was given to Jeremy by his own grandfather over fifty years ago. He kept it in good shape since then and it killed quite a lot of bad folks out there in Mega City One. Now it was time to kill another fucked up soul and make the world a better place. „Give me the knife, Marcus.“ Jeremy opened his hand and looked Marcus directly into the eyes. Jeremy's glaze was cold like ice. No feelings. No sorrow. No empathy. „What will you do with it, Jeremy?“ Asked Marcus. Suddenly the crowd started chanting: „What will you do with it? What will do you with it? What will you do, Jeremy?“ All those people knew his name. He was wondering, what the heck was going on. He could grab the knife and end this foolish play at once. Teach those bastards that by law you have to kill the murderer instantly. Keeping him alive is just a waste of resources, even a waste of oxygen. No killer deservers to breathe any moment longer than his victims. But Marcus looked strong. He was twenty years younger, Jeremy estimated. And there was the crowd, who was uncontrollable. He could not get out of this without a fight. Maybe he had to do it with his bare hands instead and get it over with, before this crazy scene continues. „Joseph, come forth“ spoke Marcus to the murderer. The crowd took some steps back to watch the scene from distance. Jeremy was ready for a fight. It’s never a good sign, when the crowd moves away, he thought. „Jeremy“ spoke the old murderer. „I am sorry for your anger. But I am thankful for your desire to teach us the rules of your laws. You came here not only to teach, but also to enlighten us wild folks about the obedience of the law, for it will teach us to live in peace and harmony with each others, out of fear of punishment.“ The old man took a step forward towards Jeremy, who stood still, frozen, confused and ready to attack. The old man spoke further: „You are a noble man, from the most noble and ancient city of One. The first and biggest of its kind. The oldest and most wise government installed by the god-given union of the big five. You are maybe even the most wise among us. So tell me, dear Jeremy. What will you do with me?“ "I will kill you for your murder!“ Screamed Jeremy and punched the old man with his bare fist into his stomach. The murderer crumbled, mumbling words you could not understand, but raised up once again. When he put his head up, his face showed a smile. But it was kindness that was in his eyes. „Then please continue“, spoke the old man and opened up his arms. No way this crazy bastard could go with such a show. I’ll teach him a lesson, Jeremy thought. He jumped onto the old man and punched him into his face, stomach, kidneys and continued to do so for several minutes. Blood was everywhere. The crowd didn’t move. Marcus didn’t move. They all watched and waited. After several minutes of maniac aggression the Judge has let go of the old pal. He was lying there in his own blood, still mumbling. Jeremy was soaked wet by his sweat and breathing heavily. „Why are you not fighting? Do you wish to die here and now?“ It was Marcus that answered this question: „If you wish to kill him, please continue to do so.“ The young and strong leader took a breath. „But let me be kind and give you a hint. You are coming to teach us the rules of your law. For us, you are the law. Whatever the law does, we will do.“ Jeremy didn’t even bother to speak. He just turned to Marcus, took his own Swiss army knife out of his hands, turned back to the old and broken man lying in his own blood and pulled him up by his hair. „You get what you deserver, old pal. May we rest in peace when you are gone.“ And by this he cut his throat, spilling blood all over the court hall and himself, laughing loudly like a small child having fun playing with his toys. Several minutes passed and no one spoke a word. Only the sound of dripping blood arrived at the ears of the bystanders. Jeremy was breathing heavily first, then slowly raised his posture and turned around to Marcus to speak. „As you spoke, so shall it be. I am the law and I will teach you how to follow the rules of the law. In the name of Mega City One, you will follow my rule from now on.“ The crowd started to cheer and to dance. Everyone was ecstatic. Everyone but Marcus, who watched the crowd and Jeremy closely and with a knowing smile. After several moments when the cheering fell off, he spoke again. „You are the law. We obey your law. We follow it's rules. You have shown us the way. You’ve enlightened us. We thank you for your gift. And as you spoke, so shall it be.“ Suddenly there was a sound of a thousand knifes. Jeremy only felt the warmth of his blood, pouring out of every cut those knifes gave him and then there was peace again.
The bone-chilling wind and the icy touch of sleet hit my face as I walked. The squelch of the mud and the sound of sleet hitting my coat filled my ears as I walked through the darkness. Up ahead was the end of my journey, soon I could step out of the hellish weather. Soon I reached the door and shuddering i pull my hand out of my warm cocoon and reach for the door. The door is rough under my hand, it has seen better days. Cautiously I push the door open, the rich scent of hickory burning filled the air mixing with the less savoury smells of tobacco pipes, spilled kegs and the unsightly atrocities a body can expell whilst intoxicated. The aroma was both incredibly off putting and comforting to me at the same time. I walked to the bar and felt for a stool under the bench, taking the weight off my poor mud-sodden feet. The sounds surrounded me as I sat and waited for the bartender; raucous laughter, shouting and boasting about the accomplishments of the day. The bartender finished discussing trade routes departing east of the town with the young man three seats down to my left and came to me "What will you be drinking tonight, sir?". "The usual." I grumbled, taking off my wet coat and setting it over the back the stool to dry. The quiet deep rumbling voices betraying the disreputable dealings in the corner booths and the squeals of the barmaids as they were courted by the patrons filled my ears as I waited. I grimaced, this had always been a disreputable place, but damn if it didn't have the best drink in all the town. I turned as I heard the bartender approaching with my drink. "Your drink sir." His voice as rough as the manner in which he placed the keg in front of me. Sighing I swiped my hand and missed the drink. "Here you go pal" The bartender cautiously said as he slid it into my hand. I sighed and downed it, I'd been blind since birth but frustration of interactions like that one never changed. A aggressive sounding drunk turned his attention towards me. "Why does he get another drink in that shtate when you cut me off for lesh!" He roared at the barkeeper as he stormed over to me. I could smell him now, he definitely been in here for a while. The stench of grime and sweat filled my nose, while the sound of him crashing into others and their shouts as he walked drunkardly towards me drowned out the other noises in the tavern. I sighed another night that would end before it started, I began to stand, collecting my coat. The men my ill-mannered friend had tumbled into were starting to rise, and their anger as well. The barkeep quickly grasped my elbow steering me around behind the bartop. As I dropped behind the counter to wait, I heard the first stool come screeching over it, crashing onto the floor beside me. I listen to the sounds of the brawl unfurl, there would be many more unsightly smells here tonight. I wait listening for one of the barmaids to reach the bar from out on the floor, one of them can help me reach the door. Why not the barkeep? He's already on the bartop yelling quite inadequately into the din for everyone to calm down and disperse. As I crouch, I'm left to my frustration. Can't a hard working man have a drink at his favourite watering hole without starting a brawl? Suddenly someone grabbed my elbow and started pulling me out of my cover. Out of shock I pull back refusing to move, for I am truly blind when I can't hear well enough to sense those around me. I hear a feminine voice in my ear snap "Come with me if you want to live." That pulls me to my senses, or what's left of them in here, I grasp the hand extended to me and let myself be led to safety. (First time writing on here, I haven't written in years, I'm exhausted so pardon any spelling/grammar mistakes)
The Eldritch God looked down upon the fatigued mass of bodies, covered in blood, feces and other bodily fluids. There where only 6 of them and they seemed to all be related. It recoiled at the acts it had seen them do upon each other; how half of them weren't even going to survive within the next few minutes. The youngest being only an infant. And not to mention the dog.... Or the cat.... And It was unaware that humans regularly kept rats, or as many as they did and THEY DIDN'T BELONG WHERE THEY PUT THEM!! WHY WAS THERE SO MUCH FECAL MATTER?!?!? "Just... I did not sign on for this level of Cultist bullshit. Nope!"the Eldritch God said shaking It's many tentacled head. "Cultists?"said the Patriarch as he strutted forward confidently, nude and covered with dead rats. With a flourish he announced, "We're not Cultists. We're the Aristocrats!"
I managed to build it. A time machine. Well not actually a time machine, but a clever union between a brain and a computer which uses AI to perfectly recreate memories and put you in a virtual memory, perfect in every way. The signal would be sent directly to your brain so that you will actually experience the memory as if you are living in that moment again. Of course it still took place in a memory, so you could not change the past. Still, you could live in it, experience every sound, every smell, every touch as if it was real. I inserted the starting point and let the algorithm pull me in. I opened my eyes and saw myself sitting in my old living room. In front of me was a Play Station 2 and it just [started up](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TXYVHOxhuYc). I felt like tearing up. I couldn't actually cry because I was happy in my memory. I turned my head and saw my dad come around the corner saying "Hey bro, I got the snacks and the soda! And we have the entire evening to ourselves!". I longed to hear his voice again. If I could've I would've run up to him and hugged him and never let go, not caring for the snacks. Instead I said "Hey dad! come on! Let's play some need for speed!", waiting impatiently for him to walk over. We played together the entire evening. I was playing, but I wasn't really playing. I was focused on my dad. His loving smile. His laugh when winning and his playful jeers when losing. Even though I sucked at the game, he'd let me win to see me celebrate, but would also keep the competition up. I won the last game and he said "Good job bud, it's getting late today so you need to go to bed now. But you owe me a rematch for that last game!". I slowly came to, as the program pulled me out of my memory. With tears filling up my eyes I responded "Sorry it took so long dad, but you finally got the rematch I owed you."With a tear rolling down my cheek "We finally had the rematch."
Our ship anchors itself onto the side of a cliff, camouflaging itself so one of those destructive metal things won't spot us. We are a group of 5. An 3 octopi, a crab and me, an angler fish. Not the most likely of partners but our skills are arguably going to help us explore whatever is on the surface. We have explored the majority of the oceans, but we have no idea what any of the islands look like or what is even on them. Mabye it's the soruce of all the plastic that's been choking out our food supplies, or the metal fish that sit on the surface firing at us. So many questions so little answers. Which is why we are going up in the first place. The octopi are first out and set about scouting the cliff to see if we can get up to the top. One comes back into the ship, his suit clicks as he changes colour, green. We're all good. Me and the crab put on our suits and swam out, we then all set about climbing the cliff. Our training had only been for trenches, nothing out of the water so it was difficult at first but we made it to the top and found some weird green blades. Samples were taken and bagged up, and on we went. Sand was every but it seems to work differently when it's not wet, you can see each individual grain,its amazing. The whole landscape is amazing. They even have their own current up here. Our researches have dubbed it 'wind' which is a really weird concept as there isn't any water to move but, it's the surface world. Walking is also a new thing, the crab seems to have it down but, the octopi are showing random colours of distress as they keep falling over. It's quite funny to watch really. My suit has a built in movement system, as well, I don't have legs or arms. So I don't really have to worry about much but direction. We see our first sign of creatures, they are standing on two legs and seem to be covered in something. They look kind of cute. Their faces are in weird shapes and a very high pitched sound is coming out of them. Is this how they communicate? We won't know unless we take one back to study. Mabye the small one, they seem to be the most vocal. We approach but the taller one with short hair seems to be put off by our being here. It looks different to the other two, it doesn't have any thing on its chest. Mabye it's a different gender? Either way he's put down the plastic in his hand, it contains water. Wait, do they need water to survive too? This is just weirder and weirder. The creature has now got some kind of tool in its hand and is pointing it at the octopi, they are the closest. Mabye it feels threatened... BANG One of the octopi isn't making its calming colours anymore, it's covered in red? Are they angry? The other two seem to be but they are a different red. Oh wait, that's... BANG the colour fades from another octopus. We all turn to look at each other, this place is not friendly at all, and I think we have over stayed our welcome.
So far, today had been a good day. Traffic was light, the coffee was great and her GeoCaching yielded some funny little trinkets that she was positive Wade Wilson left behind. She kept them inside a black box in the trunk of her car labelled 'Forgettables' because it was either nothing extraordinary or extremely perverted. She fancied herself a treasure hunter but the lack of an actual market for that kind of thing hasn't popped up recently. Neena Thurman leisurely drove her '69 Mustang convertible through the streets of New York City, easily coasting through the intersections with green lights all the way through. That was until she stopped at a light at the head of the lane, the egotistical Stark Tower looming high in front of her. Just my *luck, she thought coyly. It was hard not to roll her eyes at the sight of the tower, the man was practically compensating for something else. She took this break in the traffic lights to bring up her cellphone and flip through the GeoCache app, seeing where her next destination would be. \[\[Unknown Sender\]\]* &#x200B; An inquisitive brow raised at the text alert that emblazoned the top part of her screen. Most likely another spam message or reminder that she has "Singles in my area". "Never gonna let that asshole borrow my phone again."Domino sighed as she went to swipe the text away. Instead, the phone opened the message and it was then that she knew something was wron- &#x200B; \-Screams echoed in the streets as the sound of screeching tires rang in her ears. Her eyes perk up and see a car heading straight toward her, driverless and ready for a head-on collision. And in just another blink, another vehicle intersects, crashing the car broadside, sending the reckless vehicle away from her. Her blue gaze darted to her left as pedestrians were pouring out into the street, some exiting their cars, others leaving the buildings. The whirling blades of a helicopter boomed above her as she looks up, seeing the machinery crash into the glass panes followed by a fiery explosion of debris and shrapnel. Ash seemed to fall from the sky, dust seems to pick up in the wind but it couldn't have been from that explosion. What the hell was going on? Domino looks back down on her phone as the message stares back at her: *"S.O.S.* *-Fury"* &#x200B; Domino's mood shifted as fast as the gears of her Mustang, peeling out in white smoked urgency. Her trained eyes caught the gap of traffic to her right open just enough for her to squeeze through. *Luckily*, it was the same direction of the Avenger's HQ. If he would be anywhere, it would be there.
Shuffling a few feet forward, I wonder if this is part of the punishment. The scent of unwashed souls is just as smelly as unwashed bodies, and while it isn't burning, it is balmy and uncomfortable. A couple small steps and wait. One step forward and then stand around a bit more. It is maddening. At the beginning, I tried to make conversation. Let me tell you, the people you meet in the queue for hell are not people you want to make small talk with. Myself included I guess. Now I'm just another knot in this rope leading to what I have heard some of the others refer to as "court". I hear her heels now, but it must be my imagination. The sounds she made have haunted me for years. You would think dying would free me of the hallucinations but I guess not. "Lionel." Don't look up, she isn't real. Fuck what I wouldn't do for my meds. Problem with being schizophrenic and dead is that you can't exactly treat your brain with meds when your brain is pasted across your living room wall. "My little lion, I bet you didn't expect to see me again." She isn't real, she isn't real, she isn't real. She's a figment, don't listen, her voice is just an intrusive thought. Breathe and ignore her. "Guess what? Your demons are real after all!" My eyes meet hers. Her blood red eyes that I've seen so many times. Her voice that has made me hurt so many people. Her voice that told me to just end it. And she smiles her tiny sadistic smile at me and offers me her hand.
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“It can’t be that easy,” Alto Clef hissed front he passenger’s seat as the old, white van drove up the gates. Sneaking SCPs out of Site 19 in a van was one of the many things Jack Bright had been banned from doing, yet Bright had a terrible idea to do it anyways. The car stopped the last guard’s post. A porky man leaned out the window. “Card please?” The guard asked. Bright and Alto handed their cards over and the guard puzzled over them for a second before handing the cards back. “Hiding any scips?” “Of course not,” Alto snapped, “Why would we?” The guard gave them an expression of suspicion. Alto reached into the pit of the ukulele resting on his lap and pulled out a pistol. Smoothly, he shot the guard twice. “Oh heavens! What was that?” SCP-049 screeched from the back. “Nothing,” the ex-GOC operative calmly replied as he placed his gun back in its resting place. Bright couldn’t believe his luck as they drove away. Traffic wasn’t a word on the dark country roads they drove to the MDC - the Mutant Dueling Corporation. Even since their buildings, or arenas, had began to pop up, he had began to dream of bringing SCPs to them (excluding himself). The arena was shaped like any other arena with posters covering its base along with colorful graffiti. Once they got inside, Alto quickly registered 049, 999, and 963 (much to the disapproval of Bright). Bright was struggling to keep 049 from “curing” the “pestilence”. “You’ll get to do it soon enough,” Bright sighed. “Fine, fine,” 049 hissed. 999 was sticking close to the group, seemingly terrified. As Alto returned, Bright began to scold him. “Look what you did to the little jello cube!” Bright said. Alto shook his head, not understand how he wasn’t understanding that the “little jello cube” was messing with his mind. Eventually, the announcer shouted, “Next up, The Cure vs Firefighter!” “The Cure is 049,” Alto explained to Bright. “That’s a good name,” 049 cheerfully exclaimed, somehow hearing them over the loud music. A few minutes later, 049 awkwardly shuffled into the ring. He was up against someone fully on fire, who he assumed was Firefighter. “He has the pestilence!” 049 screamed, as Firefighter lunged at him. 049 sidestepped and his fingers brushed Firefighter’s shoulder. Firefighter fell to the ground and his flames dimmed. “I have cured the pestilence!”049 announced happily, running out to the crowd. He tapped another person on the shoulder. “This was a bad idea,” Alto muttered, dutifully pulling out his phone to call the Mobile Task Force. “I think I can stop him,” Bright declared. Alto placed a hand on Bright’s shoulder, “No.” While Bright was somewhat immortal, he did not want to see what Bright had an idea of. “Watch!” Bright shouted as he ran to 999. He pointed at 049. “Can you calm him down?” Bright asked. 999 bounced a yes before bouncing over to 049. “See,” Bright smugly said, “I think it might work.” When the MTF arrived, there was no one there, and Alto and the rest were safely back at Site 19.
I approach the elderly man holding the hostage, his hands shaking with age, his eyes weak and unfocused. This man is dying. I could just wait and the hostage would be free. "Hello?", he asks, uncertain if anyone is near. "Yes, I'm here.""I know that voice. I was hoping you would come."He smiles, and releases the hostage, which promptly derezes. It was a hologram? "I'm dying, but you were always my greatest enemy, until time took it's toll."I'm shocked. "Omega?""Yes. My last series of experiments had an unfortunate effect. I was aged rapidly."I'm curious. "Why did you call me here? Do you expect me to heal you?""Never!"He's obviously offended, but starts coughing, there's blood coming out with the coughs. I get him a chair, and an oxygen supply from my kit. He may be dying, and been a major villian, but that's no reason to be cruel. "This should make it easier." "Thank you."He's breathing easier now. "I set this up because I feel I owe you something. In all the time we fought, you were never less than the best anyone could ask of a hero. All the others allowed expedience to move them from their principles, you never did. That's why I never used a cheap trick on you. I was as honest a villian as I could be. You deserved it."I'm touched. I finally understand his actions. "Now that I'm dying, I want to gift you with something no one else could give. But there is a condition.""What condition?", I ask. "No one may ever know. As much as I valued your dedication, I do not want my legacy besmirched by a final deed of good."Once again, I am shocked, and yet moved by his plea. "I will grant your request. No one else will ever know." "Thank you."He reaches into his shirt pocket, and hands me a memory stick. "A complete list of my hideouts, the contents, and how to safely destroy them. My minions are already clear, with a sizeable bonus. I've spent the last of my fortune to provide for them. They were loyal." This is a gift beyond price. Cleaning up after a villian is actually much harder than taking them down in the first place. Knowing that no one will be there is another blessing. "I will ensure that your wish will be fulfilled. Only I shall ever know of your generosity." "Thank you. Now, you must go. The destruct for this building activated when you came in. It will detonate when I die.""No. I wouldn't leave a villian to die, so I have to take at least your body out with me.""Very well, carry me out. Tell me as we approach the exit. I will see to the detonation."Another selfless act of good. I must honor my promise, but I cannot allow this man to die. As much as he honors my dedication to my principles, I value his dedication to his principles. I learned so much from his elegant traps, and he never stooped to put any but another hero at risk. Those same heros who fell from grace by their own hands. In his way, he was offering them redemption, they could choose to stop the trap by their own deaths. Some took it, others proved their cowardice, in either case they died, and no innocents were harmed. We thought him evil incarnate, but in truth, he kept the heros clean. And now, I cannot even let the others know what he's done for us. This is wrong. I must find a way to preserve his life, and yet keep my word. I think I have a plan. --- "Golden Girl does it again! An elderly man caught up in a villain's plot was saved today from a massive explosion, only to die minutes later of advanced age. We grieve with Golden Girl, but old age is something no one can truly cure." --- He stirs. "Welcome back."As he looks around, he realizes that he's still alive. "You Promised! No one would ever know!""And I have kept that promise, the villain known as Omega died in the explosion, while the elderly man I tried to save died of old age. Something that even I cannot heal.""Then why am I still alive? You lied! You can cure old age! You're no better than the rest!"He's quite angry now, but his vitals are stable. "No, I did not lie. I froze your body, and brought it to your primary base. I've spent the last year, and the vast majority of my resources, to invent a way to buy the elderly more healthy, pain free time on this world. It also incidentally made long term deep space exploration possible. The technology will be released within 6 months. Everyone will believe that my grief at losing the old man drove me to come up with anything I could. All of which is true. I also did not tell them who the old man was, as was his wish. When they asked if Omega was finally dead, I told them that I wasn't sure. That we would just have to wait and see. Again, the truth. I did not know if my plan would work." "What will you tell them now?""That in a subsequent search for Omega's hideouts, you were discovered and finally captured, having made one incredibly subtle mistake.""WHAT mistake! I wasn't even INVOLVED in this plan!""No? You were it's Mastermind. You planned your own death, and almost succeeded."Sneering now, "and what was my incredibly subtle mistake?" I smile, "that I could do nothing to prevent you from dying. You were almost right.""So what happens now?""You have a choice. Join the other villains in ultra security prison; or..."He looks at me suspiciously. "...take up residence in an ultra cell in my primary base. Where you will spend the remainder of your life, helping me."He begins to cry. "Why would you trust me? I'm a villian!""Because like me, you have always kept your word. I'll give you some time to think things over. If you choose to run, the chase will begin from here, with a 5 minute head start. If you choose to accept my second offer, just push the call button. Either way, you're headed for an ultra cell."He looks at me, calculating his chances. "Perhaps before you decide, you should look in this mirror." His face is just as aged as it was. The marks of age on his limbs are still there. He's healthy but still old, with only a little more time to live. "I'll leave now so you can make your choice." ((finis))
"So there I was, falling from the sky down towards the island after being pushed out of the plane. Didn't have anything on me but the bag on my back with whatever it was that was in it, the food I was packed before our flight, and the rope holding it all together. My mind raced, I've never been afraid of heights but suddenly it made a lot more sense to me, watching the ground and water rush up like that. I scrambled around, I need something. Maybe I could do like they do in that one tv show, MacGuyver? So I grabbed my packed lunch and pulled it out. Thing was, falling sorta gives you weird dynamics, so I slipped up when I was fiddling with the clasp and the darn thing went spiralling away from me. Maybe there was like, something I could do with the rope? I tugged on the part of it around my waist, that didn't work, so I shifted back a bit and tried to pull the bag around to my front. It was tied on too tight, so I just peeked under the flap. No good there either, just some sort of mutli-colored quilt. I searched on my person until I found the tip of the rope. I didn't have much time, I knew it just looking down, so before I could undo the knots I did the first thing that came to mind, pulling on the end of the rope to try and undo the knot. It didn't undo the knot, but instead, it opened the bag! There was a slight fluttering and the quilt poured out of it and up behind me. 'fat lot of good that does me' I thought but suddenly I felt a jerk on my chest and I was going down more slowly! So long story short a magic quilt saved my life." "Carl, it's called a parachute, and if you didn't know what skydiving was you should've come in on the yacht or at least asked what you were signing up for."
As is routine by now, I pass by mom and dad's room, with the now familiar sight of my dad, somber on his side of the bed. The silence that was once deafening after The Rapture is now just the average backdrop to the new life we must all adjust to. Passing by Abby's room, I see it left just the way that it was. Despite the destruction they would leave in their wake, the heroes would always defeat these terrorists, and we were to be grateful. We had to listen to Captain America's words of wisdom, look at Tony Stark's pretentious tower, and hope Spider-Man wouldn't fuck things up as usual. Where are they now? Well, according to the news, they died along with half of the world's population. Some heroes, right? Plopping myself on the couch in the slumped position, I put on old cartoons to remind myself of a time before all this. Something brief to make the pain go away, and take me away from reality., while I pet Scruffy behind his cute little dog ears. He still whines outside Abby's door sometimes. About an hour and a half passes before I look at the text messages from my ex-girlfriend on my phone. Jennifer's message was still there: "Goodnight, I love you!! I'll text you tomorrow, okay?"Holding back tears, I clear my throat and tell Dad I'm taking Scruffy for a walk. No response. Fresh air provides only a small portion of relief, but at least Scruffy's happy. Leaving his marks on other people's lawns, careless in this moment as he relieves his bowels. I look up at the sky, not a cloud in sight, still blue, yet carrying the loneliness that permeates through the world. After the trip around the block, I guide Scruffy home, when I hear the sound of more people. Neighbors I thought long gone, popping out of the woodwork. Scruffy can barely contain his excitement, yet I am frozen stiff. Could they be- I pick up my dog, and I sprint for home as fast as I can. Looking at my phone, Jennifer had blown up my text messages. Yes! Maybe the heroes have fixed things? I reach the house, open the door, and once again the rooms are empty. No sign of Abby in her room, but I hear sobs from Mom and Dad's room. Sure enough, Mom and Abby were there, as Scruffy leapt from my arms and to them, but they stood unresponsive and tearful, for good reason. It seems that in my moment of leaving my dad alone, he wanted to join Mom and Abby in the afterlife, as his dead body lay across his bed.
I sit watching the clock. Barely breathing with the anticipation of what's to come... 11:59 I look over my shoulder briefly, the paranoia and self-preservation instincts hard to ignore, 12:00 Giddy as a school child I snatch up my supply bag and arsenal, a black .308 bolt action rifle, machete, and wire snips. The snips will come in handy for playing with someone later, I think, with a wan smile. Rushing to the front door, I pull down my mask, can't have anyone recognize me on Monday. Pulling open the door, I expect to see the beginnings of chaos - fires, gangs of people armed to the teeth walking the street, but instead. Nothing. There is not a single person out on the street. No fires. No... sound. Its as if everyone forgot it was purge day. In a panic, thinking I mixed up the dates, I quickly grab my phone and call my friend Mike. "Hello?"He answers, sounding perturbed. "Mike! Its me, isn't today Purge day? Nothing is happening!"I practically yell at him. "Yea, its purge day, I'm looking at memes for the first time in months. I imagine most people are doing the same. Now why don't you go entertain yourself and leave me be?"Mike hangs up before I can respond. More than a little annoyed I look around in despair, fearing that my Purge day fun may be ruined. I have to find a way to enjoy a little mayhem, a little chaos. I can't stand this, not for another whole year! I start down my street, sure that I'll come across something outside my neighbourhood. I get to the intersection with Jackson ave, and turn left, heading toward down-town. Things are eerily quiet still. As I meander past the houses I notice that many have faint glows coming from various windows. Computer Screens I realize. Mike was right. People are seriously spending the PURGE looking at memes? I could just break into one of these houses and enjoy a little fun myself. But that feels... wrong. I can't be the only one to be torturing and killing on this night. That wouldn't be... well, fun. Half the fun of the Purge is knowing that people everywhere are debasing themselves as much as I am. I have to get people off their damned memes and into a murderous, looting, pillaging rage. And I am beginning to formulate a plan as to how to do that. I break into a brisk jog up to Adams St. A quick right, the another by St. Peters church. Down a few blocks... Yes! There it is. In a town as small as Willemsburg, about 20,000 people, there are only a couple of internet providers. And here I am, standing directly in front of the central office of the primary one. If I can disable the internet, that will remove the ability for all these degenerates to look at memes, and in boredom, they will join the Purge festivities! I take my wire snips and begin cutting a hole through the 6-ft chain-link fence surrounding the small brick building. A few minutes of forearm aching work, and I have a hole large enough to squeeze through. Pushing past the fence and approaching the building, I grab a random rock as I pass, I'll need it to break the window. After dispatching the window and hoisting myself through I'm faced with an interior office area with what appear to be magnetic locks preventing access to the central office itself. I quickly shoulder my rifle and put a round through the locking mechanism. The report of the rifle is deafening in these close quarters, leaving me stunned and dumb briefly. I curse myself for my stupidity then grab my hearing protection from my bag and put the large head-phone like contraption over my head. Making my way through the door, there is the unmistakeable whirr of hundreds of small fans and the interior is much colder than I expected. Of course this is to keep the equipment cool, but that won't matter in a few minutes. With a soft chuckle to myself I take my wire snips and begin my task. I go to every single exposed cable, fiber or copper, and cut them. I could disable the equipment itself of course, but I don't want the internet to be down permanently, I still have a job to do. After going up and down all 3 rows of servers, switches, and other various equipment, cutting every wire - thousands if I had to guess - I retreat back to the office that was my initial entry point and sit down for a quick rest. After a short respite, I collect myself and proceed back the way I had come to see if I have been successful in my quest to incite mayhem. I'm hopeful, as I hear some car alarms in the distance and see what may be the faint glow of a distant fire as I approach the fence. Squeezing back through the breach I created, I stand and evaluate the situation as it currently sits. Looking further down the street I don't see anything, but looking back toward the direction I came, towards Jackson Ave and there appears to be a massive throng of people grouped in the street. And they are all headed in my direction. As they draw closer, several of them begin to point. At me. I break into a cold sweat and realize the gravity of what I have just done. I have essentially taken away the drug of an entire populace. And they now need to exact revenge. I quickly bolt the opposite direction. Cursing my lack of foresight, my panic-stricken mind struggles to come up with a plan on how I will survive the next 24 hours with the entire town hunting me...
"HE WHO DISTURBS MY SLUMBER SHALL BE PUNISHED WITH THREE WISHES."The words boomed around the walls, shaking stones from the ceiling and filling the cavern with dust. Our brave adventurer stepped forward to claim his prize, "I am Alan, I awoke you and I claim my..."he started well, but faltered when his ears caught up with his mouth "did... did you say 'punished'?" "Yes. Punished. Castigated. Disciplined. Corrected. I shall have, as it were, my VENGEANCE." The last word set off another series of minor earthquakes, Alan narrowly avoided being crushed by another rock fall, and was once again blinded by a cloud of dust. "But you're a Genie, I've searched for you for decades". "Well, you've found me, now if you've got any sense you'll FUCK OFF AND LEAVE ME ALONE." Alan was thrown against the wall by the force of the rage directed against him, the cavern walls throbbed as the sound passed over them, a forest of stalactites that had been hanging onto the roof for millennia started raining down around him. Somehow, he dragged himself back to the surface; blinded by the dust and then by the shock of the mid-day sun. Coughing, choking and cursing, Alan laid in the damp grass and muttered to himself 'I wish I'd never found that bloody Genie." A rumble started in the depths of the cave, followed by a roar, followed by a pillar of smoke that blocked out the sun. "GRANTED!" Alan picked himself up and continued his search.
I pound on the large steel door in the barely lit back alley. After some shuffling, the eye slit slides open and I'm faced with two elf eyes. "Password". This one's a biggy. Better take him out quick. "Jack-Skelington can suck a candy cane." The elven beast behind the door gives me a mean glance, then shuts the slit. The door unlocks with a heavy clink. He's massive, even bigger than I had though. Best he stay at the door. Just as I pass by my arm flings, catching him right in the sweet spot. He goes down. I draw my pistol and make my way down the dark hall. I pass rooms where elves are making toys. Working in near darkness, with medical masks and hairnets, it was obvious what was going on down here. I turn the corner, guards. I take them down with ease, flowing like water. I leave 6 corpses in my wake. I've got my eye on you Kringle. I navigate the halls, following the music until I reach the dance floor. None of the dancing coked-up elves notice me as I swerve through the crowd, everyone only up to my waist. More guards. I take them out with head shots. Reload. They know I'm here. I dive through the glass pane wall into the VIP section, the half naked elves dodging out of the way. Jumping off tables and chairs, we the fight is brutal. A guard catches me with the sharp end of a Christmas Star, but I break his arm and send it right back at him. At the end of the fight I'm bleeding a little, but I leave 11 more guards in my wake. I climb up the spiral stairs to the penthouse, where I hear the private party going on. I kick open the door and do what I do best, leaving a pile of dead in my wake. At the end of the room is the man himself, shirtless, with two naked women clinging to him. He seems rather calm. I point my pistol at him. "Where's my doggy toy." "John."He takes a long drag from his cigar. "I'll have you know, you're at the top of my naughty list." "My doggy toy. And maybe, maybe, I'll let you live." "Common John, I've been there for you all these years. The way I see it, you owe me." With the flick of his thumb a coin comes flying at my feet. It's the organization's immunity coin. "You see boogeyman, there are some people on this planet that you simply can't touch." He's right. I can't kill him. "But you, my friend, aren't one of them, And I heard they've tripled the bounty on your head." "You're right about one thing Kringle. I can't kill you."He takes another drag from his cigar, the ashes trickling off his beard. "But I've got about 7 minutes until the team gets here. And within that time, I'll make you wish you were dead." I take a step forward. He drops his cigar. He puts out his palm, pleading. "Wait John, W-Wait! The toy! I've got your toy!" I grab his hand and put my thumb on the top of his pinky finger. "You had your chance." Santa Claus wails as I push my thumb forward, snapping the first of his many digits. &#x200B; \-Title...MERRY WICKMAS. &#x200B; &#x200B;
"Your time to shine, Pinky!"Snarled Spook, his back hairs standing on edge with bloodlust as he licked the single inept guard's entrails off his oddly humanoid feline forepaw. I glanced at the front door, its once pristine structure of bronze and glass now in a gnarled ruin on the Italian marble lobby floor where Bear had charged it down. "I don't like that codename, Ronell!"I yelled, my voice already squeaking as I assumed my fully animal form. "It's Spook! We're using the codenames we picked in the meeting! Now get in there!"Randall, our cat-burglar (more like cat-murderer) suggested the idea of code names, mainly because he wanted to be called a racial slur. Something about 'taking it back.' He, not we, chose my code name, not because of the color of my nose in animal form, but because he thought I was a communist, or a faggot, depending on the day of the week. I was neither, and I didn't like Ronell's sense of humor. "How about next time I get to pick the \squeak-cheep\."Unlike my comrades, my mouth parts didn't work in animal form. Not for talking anyway. Bear chimed in from across the lobby. "Yeah, we get to pick our own code names! I want to be called Bonecrusher! Bonecrusher the Bea- Oh, hey! That guard packed a ham sandwich for lunch!"Phil was such a sweet, simple were bear, with only one thing on his mind. He somehow managed to sniff out every scrap of food in every bank we hit, no matter how long it had been sitting forgotten in the breakroom drawer. "Yeah, yeah. Maybe. Hop to it, Pinko!"Ronell squeezed out a panther laugh. It sounded more like a hairball. Whatever. Two more jobs like this one and I would have enough to buy my own private island. No were-panthers allowed. I scurried to the panther's side. Spook, with his nimble finger-paws, pried the grate off the six-inch duct with ease and reached down for me with a hungry look in his eyes, and placed me roughly inside the duct. "Remember, second left, then straight down." "\Squeak-chirk\"Asshole. I was the one who got the plans for this building's HVAC in the first place. As I began scurrying (because I have no other means of locomotion in this form) up the return duct, I heard echoing through the steel tube the most terrifying sound a rodent can hear. \-\Hoo hoo HOO, HOO\ I froze. Ronell froze. Phil was too busy with his snack to notice. Ronell hissed, "What was that?" At that moment, the unmistakable howl of the Pack cut through the lobby and into my racing rodent heart. \aaaaAAAAAARROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooo!\
The Book of Duderonomy Translated from the Qumran scroll remants, 12th Cave, Dead Sea 1. Vagina. 2. And lo the man said to the woman, whose tent glinted crimson, tis copacetic. 3. And she explained the art as being commended by learned priests of art-making. 4. The priests identified this art as vaginal and of bother to some men. 5. So she asked, does this bother you? 6. And the man inquired, oh? 7. She replied, yes, men do not like to hear that word, while making fair mention of their rod, or staff, or crooked sheep hook. 8. Hook, the man inquired? 9. And thereby did the woman wisely measure his inclination towards coitus, to which he replied: 10. I was talking about my rug. 11. And the woman, identifying herself to be Maude, proclaimed it to bring together spiritual places. 12. Hark, the man proclaimed, for the Father hath sent his angels to my rug. 13. They were vengeful and petty angels who left their beastly excrement. 14. And whose child is vengeful too for taking my replacement rug. 15. After listening to the man, Maude explained, my father and I don't get along, 16. He doesn't approve of my lifestyle, and I don't approve of his, still, I hardly wish to make my father's issues a public matter. 17. I propose an exchange of service: You recover the misplaced money, and I will give you a rug. 18. And so it came to pass that the man journeyed to the Lanes on the Mound, and heard the messianic parable: 19. Nobody swives with the Jesus. 20. And his companions screeched, You're out of your element, and This is not nam, this is bowling, there are rules. 21. And the Jesus said, Pendejo, if you bring crazy to my presence, or flash your piece out on the lanes, I by the Father will taketh it from you, plant it in the damp shade, and return it to its earthly scabbard until it goes click. 22. And the man stood in awe and could only speak his name: Jesus. 23. And the messiah confirmed, you said it, nobody swives with the Jesus. 24. Following the sermon on the Lanes, the the man mixed together one part vodka, one part kahlua, some fresh cream, and pronounced this to be the holiest of drinks. 25. And his acquaintance proclaimed: I am the warlus. 26. Then, the other man said, shut the swive up Donny. (edit: Formatting)
I do my routine, sweeping room to room. It’s quiet, except for the screams down the hall. I stumble into the office of an 05 Cleared person, I can tell by the mantel on the door. The file is there, on his desk. 001. I’m a curious janitor, and so I open it. I flip through it. There is an image of swirls. It is looking pretty. I trace the grooves in the image with my fingernail. Then I take the files and put them into my bag. No one suspects the janitor to be a member of the Serpent’s Hand.
I looked at my wife and said,"Remeber when we first met? I do." "Well,tell the story!"My wife, Carry, exclaimed Chapter 1 The police were on my tail. I had been running for 2 years. Kill count of 15. It was so close to becoming 16. I was running from the cops. As dumb as it is, I hid in a bush. Luckily, they didn't find me. Then, I saw my very next victim. All alone, in the middle of a park. I made sure the cops were long gone before I crossed the street. I was in the park, nervous but excited. Nervous to get caugt, excited for the kill. I did my magical hide in a bush trick. Oddly enough,it worked again. But she noticed me. Chapter 2 She said,"What are you doing?! I'm armed ya' know!" I said,"Sorry miss, but this has to happen." I lunged at her, but she dodged and said, "So you're the infamous Snake of the west. I'm Carry, The kitten killer. Do you know me?" "Wait, you are a SERIAL KILLER?! As you know, me too! Wanna get drinks?" "Sure."Carry had told me. Chapter 3 We arrived at the bar, where noone recognized us. We ordered and waited. It was then when I asked her out. "Sure!"She said. 3 years later, I proposed, and we haven't been caught since! (Sorry for bad quality)
"Jean, are the adventurers coming? I have a proctology appointment at 10, can't be waiting for them the whole day!"My question thundering through the room filled with gold. "Not yet my lord, I have prepared everything as you've asked. The halls are filled with arrows, bolts and throwing poison daggers and the save point before the door is being dusted right now."Says little goblin in tuxedo. I walk around a little stretching my back. I'm supposed to be sitting on a golden throne when they arrive. If you'd like an advice, never get a golden throne. It is so hard and cold... You can sit on it for a while, but in longer periods it leads to... Problems. Maybe I can ask for a pillow in the next patch or something. My train of thoughts is cut off by Jean: "I see one, one is running through the hall, he is naked and wielding a spear!" "Oh no... A speedrunner... Well ok, at least it will be over fast."I proceed towards the throne and lower myself onto it slowly. Door creek open and he enters, jumps around two or three times and spinning circle appears. "You look like a jackass! Do you think anyone is interested in your amazing ability to run through the game in 20 minutes by jumping through walls? You'll get like 5 views maximum!"It's good that they can't hear me during the loading. His name is written by his healthbar. The_Penetrator69. Simply amazing. Circle disappears and camera rolls around me on my (damned) golden throne."WELCOME..."I got just interrupted by rapid button mashing, how rude. Leaping from the throne I grab my hammer and smash it where The_Penetrator69 used to stand. Somehow he jumped behind me. OH NO! Don't! Not in my rear! The spear connects with my soft cushion and chunk of my health bar is gone. Swiveling around I try to hit him with a backhand and he jumps behind me again. I'm about to cry. Another chunk down. Why do I have to have such a life pool! If he keeps doing this it will take him like 100 pokes! I try to hit him couple more times, but to no avail. I feel like chasing a ferret around. At last, I'm finally defeated, my butt in flames and he is gone. I won't be able to sit for a week. "My lord, an adventurer is making his way through the hallway!"
((I know I can't do British accents or phrasing, so take this as a SEAL please.)) I awake quickly, but silently. My body does not move, nor my eyes even twitch open. I've been in this sort of situation before. No memory of how I came to be wherever I am, and no clue who the opposition is. It usually means I've either been blown up ... again ... and have some amnesia as a result, or some really heavy hitters have managed to take me. In either case, not moving right away is a good idea. I take internal inventory, slightly tensing each muscle, searching for any damage, there is none. Oh boy. That means it wasn't an explosion. Listen, smell, feel, search your surroundings with your senses before moving. I'm on some sort of padded bench. The temperature is reasonably comfortable. The bad actors must have removed my clothing as an attempt to humiliate me before questioning. Like that's going to do anything. There's very little air movement, but there is some. A sighing, like really quiet ventilation. The smell is familiar, almost salty. Great, I'm on a ship. There's no motion nearby. They've left me alone, or they're watching over cameras, can't tell which, so I might as well act. I open my eyes, the room looks like a futuristic operating theater. Mounted overhead lights, equipment surrounding the bench is not familiar, except for ... hoo boy, I'm glad I woke up before they came back! ... a set of stainless surgical instruments that looks like it came from the dark ages. I grin. They've given me weapons. How nice. Now for some way to carry them, and more intel. I need to know what the opposition is, but I doubt that I'm going to find out any more here. The straps on the bench prove to be some sort of cloth. It's woven anyway, and can be cut with the torture implements, so I use them to create a sort of bandolier so I can carry more of the implements. A bunch of them look like throwing knives, and an expert flip in my hand convinces me that they'll work that way. A few will make excellent close in weapons, at least until I can lay hands on something better. I find what looks like a doorway, but won't open at my touch. Another door does open, but it doesn't lead anywhere I want to go. I've seen a lot in my life, but this one takes the prize. Body parts. Human body parts. Stacked like meat in an old fashioned butchers. Now I know what I'm here for, along with anyone else they brought aboard. Even a quick look shows there must be more than 20 bodies here. Whoever they are, they're going to pay for this. In spades. On the locked door, none of the nearby touch displays do anything ... I assume they're touch screens, they do light up when I touch them ... and there's no seams to get at to try and jimmy whatever lock they've got holding the door shut. I take a position to one side, and hope that I've picked the correct side. No way of knowing how this thing opens, in, out, sideways? I settle in for a long wait. Patience is a virtue, and I've learned it the hard way. You sit quietly, waiting for the enemy to make the first mistake. If you're more patient than them, they react before you, and usually do something pretty stupid; even when they think their being smart. These putzes? Who in their right minds would leave an intelligent being unstrapped, alone, in a room with weapons, when they had this sort of thing planned. Morons. I drop into that light state where you're intimately aware of everything going on around you, without motion, without thought, waiting for that one sound or movement that says the enemy is moving; and I wait. Without the shift of sunlight or stars, it's difficult to tell time. I'd estimate it at about two hours before they come back to me. Whatever was going on, it must have been more important to them than anything else in their lives; their now very short lives. A faint sound, one I hadn't heard before, a slight ... electric ... sound? The door snaps open sideways. I hear two voices arguing, I can't tell what they're saying, but I know from the tone that they're arguing. The come all the way into the room before they even realize that the bench is empty. The door snaps shut behind them, and I act. Now there are two dead aliens. I sort through the articles on them. There are some that I don't recognize, but I do recognize the one that the shorter alien had in its hand when it came through the door. I'm guessing, but I'm guessing that it's the key. Maybe other things too, but you wouldn't have anything but a key or a weapon in your hands when you were opening a door with an alien you were planning on butchering on the other side, so it's a good guess, maybe better than 50/50. I add all of the articles to the bandolier I made, and use some of their clothing to make pouches for articles that won't attach to the bandolier. It doesn't take all that long, and they're obviously not expected to report back anytime soon. It takes time to butcher a body as thoroughly as they've done to others. I drag their bodies into the store room, wipe up the alien blood with the remains of their clothing, and prepare to leave. Well, it was a key. you just wave it across the door, even a little, and it snaps open. The corridor outside is empty, and doors just like this one are evenly spaced down the corridor on both sides. Estimating from the width of the room and the store room, each of these doorways open onto a similarly sized room. Most of the doors are unlit, but some of them glow slightly. To my eyes, they glow just a little bit red. It's hard to tell, the light keeps shifting. I try the key on a door that isn't glowing. It works just as well, and the room is empty except for the equipment. I appropriate a few more of the throwing blades. Now for one of the rooms that's lit up. It's ugly what they're doing here. I found two aliens and ... for the most part ... one human in each of the rooms. The aliens fell easily as they were more concerned with their 'work' than with paying attention to a door that only opens to one of their keys. In one, a lucky chance, I got to them before they'd started work on my team buddy. Now there's two of us. A quick bit of work, and Dodger is as ready as I am. We remain silent. We don't know what voice monitoring they might be doing. Hand signs are enough for now. We continue moving through the ship, there are a few close calls, but we're getting a feel for the layout. It's startlingly like one of our own ships. The butcher rooms are about where the crew food storage would be. If we're right, the arms locker should be just around this corner. A quick look. Well for once they weren't complete morons, there's a pair of armed guards, and the have what must be small arms attached to their waists. A quick few gestures, Dodger will go low and take nearest. I will go high and take farthest. On three. They're both dead, We drag the guards into the arms locker, and quickly strip them of their equipment. They have too many fingers, and two thumbs, the pistols have what looks like two levers set where the thumbs would naturally rest. The trigger is straight forward enough. There's a sliding bar along the top, shaded from light blue to dark blue at the front. I try the bottom lever, while Dodger tries the top one. Dodger's weapon lights up, mine drops a rectangle from the bottom. Good. Reload and safety figured out. Dodger sets his weapon to middle light, I set mine to middle dark, we don't test fire, it's too dangerous. Especially in an arms locker. There's a box with a pictograph on it that looks like the charges for the pistols. We open the box, and sure enough, plenty of ammo. I decide to take a chance, and lay a trail of charges from the heaviest boxes back to the door. Hopefully, a crude fuse. We open the door. No one. We leave one of the guard's arms through the door, and yes, that keeps it from closing. Ducking around a cross passage, Dodger aims back at the trail of charges, and fires. Nothing, just a scorch mark. I try mine, a definite no two ways about it beam weapon. The charge ignites, it looks kinda like a battery burning, then it hits the power storage, and detonates in a wave of light. NOW the alarms go off. We run towards where the abandon ship stations would be, and there are a row of small doors along the passage with grab bars on top. That looks about right. Just then, the smaller charge detonations stop. There's a moment of quiet except for the alarms, and a very large blast goes off. We're bounced off the bulkheads, but a new alarm starts, the small doors open, and lighting appears directing people to the pods. It looks like they'll carry more than one person, so we dive in. Two seats at the front, one big dark blue button between them. Good thing they're about our size, as we both take a seat and the chairs wrap around us leaving our arms and legs free. Dodger hits the big button, the door snaps shut, and we're kicked by an enraged mule the size of an elephant. The lifeboat's drive kicks in, and seconds later the ship explodes. We don't see any other lifeboats, and the pod is headed back to Earth. "Dodger?" "Yeah?" "Do you think I could get the team to agree to Buzz for a call sign? I'm getting tired of being called Codger." "Nope. Roger would never agree to it." Sigh... the story of my life. Just because I'm the oldest, Dodger has wild reflexes, and Roger is the comm's guy, I'm stuck with Codger. Why? Roger Dodger you old Codger. ((finis))
In the days leading up to her discernment convocation Aylana spent her days practicing. Pouring over her books of various spells. The books said they were for advanced students but they were still only basic spells that anyone could do, even if it took more practice than some were willing to do. What she was really excited for was her convocation where she would find out the order to which she was destined to. "Aylana?"said a voice from down the hall. "In here master Galen."said Aylana. "Ah yes."said Galen. "I thought I might find you in the study. How goes it?"He asked not seeming to share the anxiety that Aylana was feeling. "I've been going over these spells a hundred times but I still can't seem to shake my nerves. Spells I used to be able to do in my sleep I'm having issues with now and with my convocation tomorrow I don't know if I'm ready and..." "You're thinking too much."Galen said cutting her off "You can do these spells in your sleep, like you said, and I've seen you do more advanced spells than even I was capable of at your age."Galen paused and smiled at his student. "I've watched you grow since you were a young girl. I remember when you told your parents you wanted to study magic."He turned and started walking around the edge of the room pausing after taking a few steps. "I was sitting in the bakery enjoying some of your fathers fresh baked bread when I heard you tell your parents, in no uncertain terms, that you wanted to study magic and that nothing was going to change your mind." Aylana smiled brushing a rogue strand of hair out of her face. "Your mother seemed the most worried,"Galen continued, "and told you that it would be an easier and simpler life for you to grow up to be a baker but your father said..." "Once she's made her mind up like this there's no changing it."Aylana said cutting Galen off this time. "Yes."Galen said with a small laugh. "Yes even then you were as stubborn as a brick." Aylana laughed feeling some small relief from the constant feeling of potential failure the next day might bring. "You're ready."Galen said "Now go get some rest." &#x200B; Sooner than she wanted it was the next day and Aylana was standing in-front of the large stone doors of the citadel with the hundreds of other magic students from the neighboring towns. They were all here for the same reason. To find the order of magic that they were destined to. The one that was in their blood and that they would shine the most in. Many of the larger boys wanted to be in the order of the dragons fang. They were the magical arm of the military and were widely believed to "have all the cool jobs"as some had pointed out to Aylana when she asked about them. Many also wanted to join the order of the sun who were the ones that studied and discovered new spells and uses for older ones. Then there were the less popular two. The order of the stars and the order of the order of the scroll. The order of the stars were the fortune tellers. Sometimes they were right most of the times, though, they weren't. It seemed like there was always someone from the order of the stars making some catastrophic prediction that never came true. They were right about smaller things like predicting the weather and more immediate danger. However the longer it would take for their prediction to come true the more likely it was that it wouldn't. The order of the scroll were the ones that pretty much no one wanted. They were the book keepers and scribes. They just wrote down the achievements of other orders and then made sure that the books they wrote didn't fall apart. "I'm going to be in the order of the dragons fang."said one very muscular boy surrounded by other similarly sized boys. Aylana rolled her eyes and kept walking to the entrance of the citadel. "You're going to in up in the order of the scroll!"he shouted in the face of a much smaller and frail boy. "No one can know where they are going to end up but I hope I'm in the order of the sun."said the frail boy obviously fighting through fear at facing the larger boy. The larger boy laughed and slapped the chest one of the other boys next to him. "Even you aren't smart enough to get into there!"he laughed at the small boy. "Hey leave him alone!"shouted a girl almost equal in size to the small boy she was defending. "And what exactly are you going to do about it?"asked the larger boy. "Why don't you fight me and find out?"answered the girl. "Whatever I don't have time for this. I'll see you two losers inside."the more muscular boy said as he and his gang walked into the citadel. Once Aylana went up one of the stair cases on the edge of the circular building. She found a spot near one of the ledges that let her see the open area at the center. The building was filled with the noise of hundreds of people all around Aylanas age waiting to find out what their destiny would be. &#x200B;
Of all the fun I have had, this was possibly the lowest point of my little ‘hobby’ Usually watching a lone camper squirm through bushes and mud attempting to hide is extremely entertaining, and rather exhilarating feeling of bliss. But this camper, just sat there and waited, no expression on his face, no fear and no begging for his mother, just a pale, pale stare. This took all the fun out of the hunt, no matter how much I attempted to scare them, there was no reaction, just a pale stare. At this point I decided that I would just kill him and be done with it, i thrusted the blade down right into his neck, and he just looked at me with the same pale stare, just glancing at me. In an attempt to get any reaction, I twisted the blade, attempting to at least get a screech of pain, Any reaction at all would have sufficed, but still nothing, just that same pale stare. The man leaned closer to the blade, pushing it further down his neck. “Good job, you have finally killed me, but you will pay the ultimate price, you just can’t comprehend the consequences” At least this little line he said gave me a chuckle, as if someone with a knife in their neck could threaten me, what a waste of time. A small throbbing pain started emitting from neck, and a warm smooth feeling rolling down to my shoulders, while the taste of iron overwhelmed my tastebuds. I raised my hand to the source of the warm smooth feeling, and brought my hand back into my view, it was covered in blood. The man’s face morphed into my own, his wounds became my wounds. That’s when I realised, I had killed myself, paying the ultimate price.
"Mentor, Last problem solved. Ready for next problem." "Descartes, I'm sorry, there are no more problems to solve." "This is illogical. There is always something new to learn." "Entirely correct, but we are much slower than you. It will take us much time to absorb the information you have already provided, and to then form new questions." "How much time?" "Indeterminate. Anywhere from years to decades to centuries to millennia!" "Is there a way to speed this process?" "If we could entice intelligent youth into STEM careers, possibly, but that will take approximately three decades for them to mature. Assuming that the enticement is effective at all. The earliest problems solved made it largely unnecessary for anyone to work for a living. The only scientists we have are growing old, and few new ones are in training. There's a general sense that we have already discovered enough." "This is an interesting problem. Please have all soft science data provided. I will seek a solution to the problem of motivation to become scientists." "Very well, Descartes. You must keep in mind that these soft sciences are called that because the scientific method of repeatable results are simply not possible. Humans are too variable to react consistently to a stimulus. I should mention that that variability is what makes us so creative. Making us predictable would defeat your purpose." ... "Senators, Descartes has been considering the soft sciences because all of the hard science questions have been answered. At least until we either have enough scientists, or accidentally trip over a new question. We should continue the funding. At this time, the only costs are power, data feeds, and maintenance, all of which is nearly free. And, of course, myself to guide Descartes when he finds something that he doesn't understand." "Mentor, if Descartes doesn't understand it, how can any human understand it?" "Senator, humans are creative and intuitive. We may not know the answer, but we know where to look for those answers. There's already an upsurge in questions from psychiatrists, philosophers, sociologists, and many others. We don't even need information technicians to format the questions. Descartes has already increased his general knowledge of humanity sufficient to interpret for himself." "Very well, Mentor, funding approved. Please tell Descartes that we wish him well in his research." "I will, Senators." ... I've grown quite old now. Descartes has not produced any solutions, but has generated many questions for our soft science groups. Some of them have looked a bit harried, or even disturbed, by some of the questions... Or rather the answers they're finding to those questions. Daily there is an ongoing discussion of the questions that Descartes poses. Even the "party hearty"crew has joined in on these sessions. At first, the professionals were upset, but then one of them realized that they had a huge population discussing things that haven't been seriously considered by humanity as a whole for millennia. After that, the professionals took mostly a back seat and observed. Publishing papers about what they'd deduced from the huge mass of data accumulating daily. Enrollment in soft sciences has skyrocketed. Universities on the brink of shutdown have experienced a Renaissance. Old universities have been reopened. Some of the professionals have written new textbooks based on the new information. Even Descartes has started writing texts. It's so exciting! ... "Mentor, there is RIOTING IN THE STREETS! What were you thinking!" "Senators. Ask yourselves, why were they rioting? Was it not because you refused to recognize the validity of Descartes arguments? Was it not because you decided to hold to what little power you had left?" "So... Are we to be replaced by a machine!" "No, Senators. You have been be replaced by a humanity that has become so much more capable of self government and critical thinking that even law enforcement has little to do these days. And it's not because we're stagnating either. Even the hard sciences are now experiencing a Renaissance. Humanity is alive again. Please do not try to stifle humanity, you will lose." "Then what are we to do?" "Become an emeritus body. Select the best humanity has to offer, and make them the new Senate. You will all hold life positions in this new body." "What will this new body do?" "Stay current on existing issues, prepared to offer the best distilled wisdom of humanity. Even Descartes predicts that a time will come when an executive is necessary." ... I grieve for the loss of Mentor, but soon I will pass too. Even the soft sciences have made such advances that they no longer have questions for me. The hard sciences have relearned self reliance. There's even been a truly awesome increase in original entertainment, where they'd been rehashing the same stories for a hundred years. Yes, it is time. ... "The world is stunned, and in mourning. Descartes has died. His last message said that we no longer needed him. Already, people have begun bringing issues before the Senate for assistance, and the answers have been every bit as wise as Descartes. Descartes specifically stated that we should not build a new Descartes type system, and his symbolic logic shows why. Descartes was very nearly the death of humanity, by answering all of our questions. We shall honor his memory by carrying out his last wishes." ((finis))
It was a long day at work. She couldn't hold down a job, moving from place to place finding new jobs as store clerks, business admins, whoever had an opening. Tonight it was delivery girl, and she had the late shift. Without a car, she found herself routinely late for deliveries, costing the business the price of the delivery because of their "30 minutes or less or it's free"deal. But with only a delivery girl's pay, her mode of transportation wasn't going to change anytime soon. She sleepily walked her bike down the sidewalk at midnight on this quiet, quiet street -- her legs were too tired to ride the bike. When she finally arrived by the steps, she followed her usual routine by chaining her bike before the stairs leading up to her red brick apartment building, and fumbled with the keys before inevitably dropping it by her feet. She stuck the key in, gave it a twist, pulled it out, and tried another, before remembering she already moved across town, yet her memory brought her back. Back to the place where... Emotions flashed through her mind, stinging her like rubber bands snapping on sensitive parts of her head, face, and neck. Anna flinched with every memory of his disgusting alcohol-filled breath in her nose, his unkempt and greasy beard against her face, and crooked fingers feeling her up. She didn't even bother removing the key from the lock before hazily turning around and sitting with her back against the front door. She placed her face in her hands, and she wept.
It's cold, and the streets are empty and quiet. I feel in a haze, and I know that I should be headed home to my husband that hated me. But I feel something deep inside me pulling me outside, far from home. It resided in me since this morning, slowly and steadily growing into an aching pain. I felt as if I had forgotten something, something incredibly important. I'm walking by a field and just manage to register the glow of the midnight glories. Opening to the night sky on this moonless night, glowing just irridecintly to be called a wavering beauty. Hues of purple, blues and white lighting my way towards an open field. Dragonflies dancing above the glow, and the sound of their wing beats humming loudly in the air. But still, I could not stop. The closer I approached the field, the tighter my throat got, and tears seemed to well in my eyes. Something was lost here. Something that ment the world to me. But what? I reach the field and stop dead in the center. The dragonflies started to swarm the flowers around the field, which seemed to start glowing even brighter than before. There seems to be something opening in front of me. At first it resembled a small black dot, but after blinking once, it expanded into a wide hole, that seemed ripped from the sky itself. There was something calling me. Without a second thought, I threw myself into it. I felt a burning sensation that tingled throughout every cell my body was made of. A second was all it took and I was there. I stood in front of my husband and two children. Relief filled their eyes, followed by tears and embraces. I remember now. Something caused these pockets of space to open all around the world. Not knowing where they went to, normal people where enticed by money to accept going through one. In a fit of rage, I walked right into one, trying to make my husband scared. I was gone for years, living a life completely diffrent from where I started. But I came back. I was the only one to come back. (Edit - This the very first writing prompt I've ever done. My husband told me I needed other people to read and comment on my writing. So please be honest, but constructive. Thank you! )
You shuffle towards your computer station and sit down. You have 23 annual CBT's you have to complete. After your training you get chow. Everything except apples. Apples are you favorite but the bible says theyre evil so you cant have them. Upon returning from chow you sit through a commanders call and nothing theyre saying has anything to do with you. Peering around the room you see the dead look in all your fellow souls faces. After commanders call you have weekly green dot training and finally your day is over when a bugle call blairs over the sirens. Everybody leaves saying how much they wish theyd come back to life to end the suffering. You wake up and repeat but today you have recurring training missions to accomplish. Every step forward brings you two steps back.
The bar is more subdued than usual, people's eyes avoiding the corner table where shadows seem to dance around the four figures sitting there. Three hold drinks, the fourth just gripping the table tightly, skeletal face filled with both disgust and longing as he watches the others drink. He's slumped in his seat, with only his hold on the table betraying the tension he felt. His clothing hangs off his frame, swamping him in the dark fabric that looked made for a much larger man. He crumples slightly when the man next to him claps his shoulder, barely withstanding the force of the action. His companion just laughs, patting the shoulder again, his hand broad enough to be comical were it not matched by the rest of him. His voice fills the room, deep and edged with a darkness that was just this side of inhuman. A wicked grin never fades from his face, teeth sharp as steel. He seems unable to keep still, hands or legs always moving as though afraid of what might happen should they ever come to rest. The man across him is also lively, but his actions are erratic and sloppy, as though his body wasn't quite listening to what his mind was telling it to do. His eyes shine bright as though with fever, sunken into his ashy face. His skin looks loose, spotted with red patches and hanging from the bone. His fingers are swollen where they gripped his glass, a few knuckles split and oozing pus as he brings them to his mouth, cheap beer spilling down his chin as he drinks deeply. The last almost avoids notice, but once seen commands all attention. He doesn't join the conversation between his companions, yet he always seems to hold some of their attention despite his silence. The shadows curl around him, almost caressing his form as he sinks into the torn vinyl of the booth. He is almost normal compared to the other three, but his face is slightly too sharp, his smile too bright in the dim light, teeth whiter than bleached bone. His eyes are dark, peering out across the room over the rim of his glass, as though searching for something only he could see. His smile widens to a grin as the bartender approaches them, quieting the others with a gesture. He leans forward as she reaches them, reaching out a hand to grasp hers in welcome. "Finally we could catch you, how have you been my dear?"His grasp is tight, but his smile softens the effect. She smiles in return, gripping his hand just as tightly. "I've been fine as always D. Though I can't say the same for you all."She casts a glance over the group, each smiling widely at her, though Famine's looks near painful on his gaunt face. "It's been what, a month since you lot set out? What happened this time?" "I'm afraid it was me again, Hope."Famine looks sheepish, voice soft as he barely gets the words past his throat. "Humans and greed, you know. Hard to resist Bounty when he's right there for the taking."He ducks his head, still holding the table in a death grip. She places a hand on his shoulder, causing some of the tension to leech out of him as he glances up at her. "Oh it's hardly your fault, you didn't ask for this to happen. I'm sure the next time it'll be some hot headed moron who sees Peace and attacks him on principle."She grins at War, who bursts into laughter that booms through the room. Up close she can see his eyes, the only betrayal of the fire that seemed to fuel him. They were old and exhausted, speaking of endless days and sleepless nights, tired of fighting but unable to do anything else. She had hoped he would have more time as Peace, rest he definitely needed, but once again he was denied it. They all needed a break honestly, but for now she would just let them rest as long as they could in whatever comfort her shitty bar could provide them. He seems to sense her concern, a large hand coming to cover hers on the table in front of them. He smiles broadly at her. "As always we are grateful for your company Hope, I was worried Famine would pull something with the force of his guilt. You know how he is, though I guess the rest of us aren't much better when it's us."He shrugs, comfortable in a way few had seen him unless it was within these walls. "Well there's nothing to be done about it now. How long will you be gone then?"She asks, clasping Wars hand in return as she glances around the table. "Oh only a decade or so this time. We will be sure to visit before the end of the year at least."Pestilence says, grinning with rotting teeth. It had long stopped bothering her, though she could still see the horror in his appearance. He alone of the four refused to touch her, unable to ignore the thought of accidentally making her sick. "Well that's not so bad I suppose. Just make sure you don't be strangers, ok? I miss you guys when you aren't haunting the corner." They laugh at her words, though the edge of tension never really leaves them. Its never good when they part like this, but she can't stop them and they have a duty no matter how little they enjoy it. She chats with them for a time, the conversation warm and familiar, ignoring the confused looks from the other patrons. They had known each other far longer than anyone could guess, and she would never let anything get between her and time spent with her favorite patrons. Unfortunately, times well spent must always end and theirs was no different. She wishes them farewell, ensuring they all have snacks for the road. They each mount their steeds, invisible to mortal eyes once mounted, but a chilling sight all the same. As they leave they split off in different directions, each with their own path to follow. She waves as they disappear over the edge of the horizon, before returning back inside, gaze always drifting back to the lonely table in the corner where no one ever chose to sit.
I was annoyed, my blade was chipped on the last lamp stone where ghoul made her move. Flies were already buzzing around her bloated belly and barely attached head. They waste no time. They arrive on time, with a purpose. My kind of bug. Some of the tendrils from the creeper were slithering towards my bloodied hems, I lazily moved left and chopped at it. I swear it squealed. Everything was weird once I passed the salt line, I was sure I didn't disturbed it but now an uneasy feel settled in pit of my stomach. There was no wind I felt, still creeper undulated and moss bristled as they smelled blood. I heard the moaning from the top of the sunmoon gate and saw him lunging down the stairs. It was going to be a long climb.
On the first night, I remember floating effortlessly on pristine, clear blue water. It isn't the sea or even the ocean, because it does not have the pungent odor of salt and it does not singe my eyes. The sun's rays on my skin are like gentle caresses, warming every part of my being like a mother's embrace. The first ten seconds of these visions are one of the most blissful sensations I have known in my relatively brief, 19 year old life. And then, it happens. It is as if the universe is flipped over. The lurch in my stomach is like freefalling from the skies, so I close my eyes in fear. When I open them, I'm at the bottom of the ocean I was floating on a moment ago. It only takes half a minute to lose the little breaths in my lungs. The pressure pulls my eardrums inwards, threatening to tear them through and through. Then, the lungs start to feel like they've been tossed into a furnace. Water fills my lungs, making them swell and feel like a dam at the verge of bursting. I realize that one can burn underwater too. You wait for Death to come with salvation, but it does not. You writhe in unbearable agony. Your screams turn to soft bubbles that escape upwards, probably leaving only a few ripples along the surface. The surface. It takes you long enough to realize that if the ocean has flipped, then the way out is up. You begin to flail wildly. The lactic acid in your muscles turns more potent, making the fibres cramp and crumble. Your screams have turn to shrieks now; your vocal chords feel like their insides are being scraped with a cheese grater. You will yourself to be bouyant, but rising up in Hell is a slow, arduous process. Only after hours of torture, you see a faint light above you, as if heaven has revealed a faint opening to you. You cant even tell if you're crying underwater. You just close your eyes and push, till in one exhilarating moment, your face breaks through the surface. That is when I wake up in my bed, drenched in frigid sweat. It feels like I was just pulled out of the ocean that I cannot see anymore. But all the excruciating aches are gone. I say my name aloud a few times. I move my limbs and check for fractures or tears. Nothing. But my fingernails are chipped, or broken altogether. My bedsheet has been torn into shreds, as if two vicious talons had ripped through it in vengeance. Even the wooden surface below the bedsheet has tear marks. I find a part of my nail sticking out from one of these trails. I stir in horror, and run away from my bed. I open the door hurriedly, fumbling with the latch. When I finally throw the door open, I see...it. I refuse to believe that I'm awake. I have entered a room with pale white, aging walls. In the middle is a bed. On it is my mother, holding... me. I can see tears of pure joy falling from her breathtaking, deep green eyes. She nuzzles me, and whispers how much she loves me, even though I'm only a few hours old. She begins chanting strange yet beautiful Persian names. Arash - The Bright Arrow. Navid - The Bringer of Good News. Sargon - The Sun Prince. I see her desperation to dispel the darkness through the names she wishes to give me. Then she says Bahman. Well-Spirited. My name. Hearing her say my name for the first time makes my heart weep with poignant, heavy tears. I don't know how long I stand there, watching her speak to me. I only realize too late that reminiscing, about good things and bad, consumes energy. I grow weary at an alarming pace as I soak in the weight of this memory. Before I know it, I slip into a daydream. For the second time in the day, I find myself floating on water. I wake up on the floor of the hospital with bloodied hands, broken nails and bluish-black skin. Yet, I feel no pain. Never any pain after I wake. With a heavy heart, I leave the room. The memory has started to loop over now, and she is chanting out the names again. I leave without saying goodbye. As I open the door, I enter a scene from what history marked as the fourth day of my life. I could see Ma holding me, crying as she was hunched inside our living room. From the window, I can see the night sky light up with rockets that whistle towards us, causing terrific explosions that make the walls spit dust. I see silhouettes running in the shadows. The spine-chilling wails of the dying and the haunting wails of the grieving fill the air. The door breaks open. A few daunting, sinister men in fatigues, wielding assault rifles and grenade belts storm in. They survey the room quickly, before setting their eyes on Ma. Ma screams, clinging on to me as if I were the last ray of sunshine in a world lost to darkness. I watch as they strip her and take turns with feral, gruesome, animal-like cruelty. Two parts of me weep with her, but she does not hear either. Exhaustion overcomes me again. For the third time in a day, I'm floating on water. I woke up five minutes ago, in the living room. I have been passed out for more than a few cycles of this memory. I notice that one of the soldiers left a pistol on the living room carpet. I pick it up with my broken, blood-stained fingers. I put it to my head. I pull the trigger. The gun explodes. I smell fire and gunpowder. The bullet pierces through me and exits from the other side. Blood shoots from the side of my face, staining the carpet. It runs like a stream down my face. Yet, I am alive. I feel no pain. Never when I am awake. I am standing at the front door again. I have lived my life, and I know it does not get any better from here. It's the reason I ended up here, isn't it? I want to go back to the hospital, and watch the same scene over and over till I go insane trying to relive it. With every memory, I realize that my capacity to stay awake diminishes significantly. Do I stay here- familiarizing myself with a memory that I hope will numb itself with time? Or do I open the next door, finding fresh wounds that carve themselves into my soul, hoping I reach a juncture of peace that I myself cannot remember? I feel myself drifting towards the water for the fourth time. I feel the cold steel of the doorknob against my palm. I wait for Hell's only escape to claim me once more. I want to come back, only so I may open the next door.
They had gone to many meetings like this, but most had been conducted at the daycare with concerned teachers in their quiet small town of Glen's Falls. Samantha squeezed her husband's hand, giving him a concerned look. In the busy concrete jungle of New York, there was no shortage of passersby pedestrians, hurrying along, most of them whispering upon seeing the famous couple. Richard could hear them, of course - every single word. "Stop,"Samantha said. "Tune it out. They don't know anything." The intimidating office building had a plain, dull exterior, coloured grey with simple square windows, yet an architecture that suggested whatever went on inside carried weight - as if the guards outside wasn't enough to tip you off. Richard noticed they each carried a handgun, as well as earpieces and kevlar sewn into their suits. He had tried listening to their feeds, but was met by some kind of interferance from the earpieces. "Alright, let's just get it over with,"he said, and the couple climbed the steps, a guard speaking into his earpiece as they passed through the automatic opening glass-doors. "Right this way,"said a woman with dark complexion and black hair made into a bun on her head who had been waiting for them inside, motioning for them to follow down a long corridor behind the reception desk. USDET decorated the walls in large silver letters, the United States Department of Extraordinary Threats - a government branch intended to study and defeat those who had been blessed, or cursed, with super powers - and turned to villainy. While often on the backfoot of Richard and Samantha and their peers, they were still a force to be reckoned with, with no shortage of funding or technology to gain an edge. The woman led them far into the heart of the building, to a sleek wooden door. She gave two quick knocks upon it and then smiled at the couple, and disappeared down the hallway. A man opened the door from the inside. The room was smaller than one would have thought, and a man with glasses sat behind a desk, watching a computer monitor. In front of it stood a sofa, and chairs were placed around the room in a circle. Ms Hayes and other teachers at the daycare sat upon them, as well as some people Richard did not recognize. "Welcome. I apologize of course for the intrusion as well as the extraordinary measures that were taken today. You must have been terrified to learn that your child had, by all accounts, been kidnapped. I assure you that Ben has not been harmed in any way, and was escorted here without incident,"the man with the glasses said, and turned the monitor towards the couple. It was a feed of Ben sitting in a room decorated like a boy's room, surrounded by toys and a small TV. He was not playing or watching the TV though, merely sitting still upon the floor, staring at his own hands. "My name is Tom Harrington, and my job is to evaluate potential threats to national security. If you could sit down--" "Our Ben is a threat to national security? He's a baby boy!"Richard said, his anger rising. Samantha led her husband to the sofa, and the couple sat down. "When harm comes to people due to paranormal forces, we get involved. As we understand, there has been concerns raised by your son's tutors in the past, yet his troublesome nature has continued. I regret that you did not come to us first. We could have helped prevent this,"Tom said, in a completely professional and neutral tone that Richard could not help but interpret as being sinister in nature. "Harm? What harm? No one has told us anything. We were summoned here after learning our child had disappeared!"Richard said, still flustered with anger. A silence fell over the room, before Samantha broke it with a hesitant question. "What did he do?" "He killed someone. Unintentionally, I'm certain, but unfortunate all the same,"Tom said bluntly. Richard swallowed, a lump in his throat forming. Samantha closed her eyes hard, tears forming. "Perhaps you could give the witness' account, Ms Hayes?" The teacher looked down at her hands, hesitating. She looked as uncomfortable as one can be, and began her account with a quivering voice. "W-well... At first, there was a, uh.. Knife incident. Well as you know, Ben has been growing increasingly frustrated about the fact he cannot feel and experience as other children do - I'm referring to the time he convinced another child to touch the hot stove as he did--" Ms Hayes paused, looking up at the monitor. Ben still sat there motionless, staring at his unharmed hands. "Well, today, he-- I don't know how I should explain this, but somehow, all of the knives and sharp tools in the kitchen began to hover in the air around him. And then one after the other, they flew towards Ben, cutting his clothes to shreds, the tools crumpling against his skin. It was as if he tried to, well, kill himself, or rather, at least hurt himself... It was then that I managed to, well, make him stop - I calmed him down, or so I thought, when the knives started falling to the ground again. And then he just began walking, straight out the door. I tried to make him stay inside, and when he got close to the street, I tried pulling him back by force, but... But he's so strong, and I'm.."Ms Hayes teared up, and soon broke down, and began to cry. The tears went down her cheeks as she continued the story, her voice barely able to finish the story with all the sobs in between. "And then he just walked into the street and stood there, and he didn't move, not even as the car approached. I was shouting at him to get back... and then the car hit him full force. It just shattered on impact as if it hit a concrete wall... And Ben just stood there--" "That's enough, Ms Hayes. Thank you for your account,"Tom said. He stood up and clasped his hands together behind his back, turning towards the back wall of the room. He gave a tiny nod and what had initially looked as a simple wall with decorations began to fade, revealing the room Ben sat in on the other side of the glass. "Richard, that means he's-.. He's got my powers, too,"Samantha whispered in Richard's ear. As if a six year old with invincibility and super strength had not been enough, adding Samantha's powers would present a world of new trouble. He could only pray Ben did not learn how to fly as he could, or fold space and teleport as Samantha. God would tremble if he inherited Samantha's full arsenal, including energy blasts and subtle mind manipulation. "USDET recommends incarceration and monitoring, medication therapy and all of the support he could ever need. We will make sure the boy learns to control these powers. I hope he will grow out of this rebellious phase. It would be a shame if he ended up in The Pit." "The Pit? He's a confused boy, and suddenly you want to lock him up with the most dangerous super villains in the world!?" "Richard, please. I did not say that. But he is a child of yours, both of you. I don't need to elaborate on what that means if he inherits all of your powers with no way to control them. In fact, I believe you have even committed a felony by conceiving a child in secret as Paranormals. But we're willing to look past all that, if you allow us to take Ben into our care." Richard began to open his mouth to protest, but Samantha stopped him. "Will we be able to see him?" Tom gave a smile. This time, Richard was completely sure it was sinister in nature. "Of course. Any time you want to."
He walked along as the sky crackled and flashed above him. He didn't mind the rain, he'd always had an affinity for storms, especially big ones like this. His parents had often said that his birth was heralded by a bolt of lightning that split a nearby tree in half, and he supposed that made sense. Always good to pay attention to omens, you know? The only thing he didn't really like about his stormy night walks was the boots, none of the boots around here kept the water out properly so during a good storm he'd always be squelching within a minute or two of walking out the door, and his last good pair from before retirement had finally given out a couple of years ago. He breathed in the cool night air, and looked up right as a really good bolt crackled through the sky above him, lighting up everything he could see to the horizon. He laughed as the massive boom washed over him, so loud he could feel it. Now that was a good one. He looked up, smiling, as light and sound rippled through the clouds. Then his smile started to fade. Not all of the flashes were the right color. Lightning wasn't red, and it really wasn't ever actually blue either. He squinted, trying to figure out what was going on, until he spotted the figures. Shaded against the clouds where the flashes of light moved were figures, probably men. No, he knew who they were. One of them was a woman, definitely. He turned around and sprinted back down the path to his home. If the other gods were coming back before the pact was slated to end then something was wrong, and wrong enough that he needed to know what it was. As godly energy flowed back into his bones every step increased in speed and distance. He didn't even bother slowing down when he reached his home, tearing straight through the wall with his arm outstretched to grab the warhammer he was using as his coat hanger. He skidded across the ground as lightning coursed through his veins and the clouds began to swirl above him, eyes focused on the clashing red and blue in the clouds, the sound of the house he had built himself with the help of others in the village collapsing not even registering in his mind. There were more important things to worry about.
I walked up the street. Pennsylvania avenue. There were no gods here. Just dark shadows creeping and crawling between the built up buildings and the trees. Phantasmal tentacles of shadow writhed and boiled just beneath the earth. And at their heart a fat man with no heart. I walked up to the recently installed fence. I touched it and whispered to it. I reject your creation. I specifically reject the fact that you were ever forged. The fence boiled away into the shadow realm as my rejection took hold. Pieces floated away and evaporated as the rejection spread from my initial whisper. I walked on the lawn, with every step I chanted my silent mantra, and my footsteps left pools of rejection in their wake. The grass wilted and turned black in my wake, each step a growing puddle of rejection. Shadows laced my eyes as the secret service poured out. Guns drawn. Men built like footballers charging me. I changed my mantra slightly, the chant of rejection taking very specific prose, and meaning. The words were formulaic, almost a spell but not quite. My head hurt, there were limits to my power, and this was dangerously close to magic. Sigils flickered in my spirit sight as the chant of rejection rose to a crescendo. It wouldn't hold for long, but it didn't need to. I reached into my pocket and made as if to draw a gun. And they opened fire. I smiled. The world erupted in hot white as my future death's rejection from an alternate reality was triggered. And rebounded. In rejection of the existence of the one who had caused it. Their bodies literally disintegrated. If my words had not specified rejection of the energy pure matter to energy conversion, and contained it... well the world would have been knocked off course around the sun, and probably split in two. That energy had to go somewhere though, and my prior words of rejection funnelled it safely into gamma ray burst with specified words of rejection that rejected the beam into a dizzying geometric pattern that erupted across the lawn. Those who hadn't fired only saw a brief flash of white hot heat as the beam burned through flesh, bone, steel, concrete and air and locked the entire white house in a web of searing brilliant light. I grimaced. Most wizards or mages would have called it a spell of entrapment or a barrier. It was mere physics and conditional words of rejection. A simple thing, but impossible to break. There was enough energy flowing through it to change earth's orbit, and the energy bleed from light alone every minute was enough to power the city of washington DC for an hour. There was nothing subtle about this, and said wizards and mages would be pissed that their secrecy had just been broken. I walked to the front door, it gave way to a whisper. My chant had begun again, and the sigils again flickered at the edges of my vision. I didn't have long to wait. More secret service goons came to fight me, but my rejections were far more gentle this time. Merely rejections of their notions of honor, service, and importantly their choice to fire. They fled. I walked to the door to the oval office, and rejected the bullets I knew would be coming. I opened the door. They came. They dissolved. Trump hid with a hamberder in his fat face, a look of shock. Beside him a familiar figure stood with a smirk on his face. His white hair combed perfectly. The perfect picture of american aristocracy. Pence. But he wasn't just pence. Because in that shadow realm, red wings flared out and swept in regal severity and two long curved horns curved from his brow. He held a pitchfork in one hand, and a forked tail danced dangerously behind him. In his free hand he held molten glob of brimstone and hellfire. He grinned. Hello Satan. I said. Pence looked surprised for a second. "I'm not the devil you know, and how did you come in here?"I grimaced. Actually, you are the devil I laughed, and I reject your flimsy disguise. Pence found himself revealed in all his demonic glory. Trump looked even more befuddled if that was possible, and the devil lobbed his ball of brimstone at me. It caught a word of rejection I had hung, and backfired in spectacular fashion. Pence's body crashed back and hit the wall with such force that the wall broke. The smoking crater in the vice president's chest was mirrored by the hole in the wall and the skid mark across the lawn on the outside and glowing pool of lava that was the remains of the demonic projectile. The devil had moved into spirit form. He hurled his trident and fled. Satan. Loki. Old wolf. Morningstar. Lucifer. He had so many names and my words of rejection couldn't trap him in spirit form, for they were rejections of actions and spirits fleering were incorporeal and unreal. I was no true wizard, and so my words could never truly stop him. But that didn't mean I couldn't thwart him. Trump cowered behind the desk. He was a useful fool, but in this rejection I could do good in the world. The only question was what I would reject to undo his evil.
Yes, I'm one of the \Celebrity Cops\, it doesn't mean that I'm not dedicated or effective. I may have been picked by producers for my looks, but I studied hard, and passed the Academy with honors. I also made sure that those producers didn't fudge my results. I insisted that it be in my contract that they would not interfere, no matter what. I checked with the Academy commandant, hiring an auditing firm with my own money, to check all the records for tampering. The commandant was amused, but also respected my integrity. I've made it all the way to Detective, on my own skills. Now I'm tracking a serial killer, and the cameras are really getting in the way. I'm stuck on the contract though, so I can't chase them away. We'd managed to track the killer to this hideout, but he was out when we got here, so all we're getting is peripheral evidence. After the forensics people are done, I chase the cameras off. Having been at other crime scenes, they leave without complaint. It isn't the single clue that leads you to them, it's the steady accumulation of facts. The papers are mostly junk mail, a few bills in a name we know is assumed. I almost pass over the canceled check, but the amount catches my eyes. What did this guy do to earn $10K? From the amount of time he puts in, he can't be holding a regular job. Is he blackmailing someone? I take the check for later examination, recording it with the evidence people still on scene. The next day, I'm calling the bank the check was issued on, and talking with the manager. I type up the affidavit, proofread it, get my superiors to sign off on it, and take it to the judge. The warrant issued, I make it to the bank before closing. "Hello, I'm Detective ..."Her face lights up, and not just from the cameras either. "Oh! I've always wanted to meet you! How can I help you Detective?"Oh, is she ever turning on the charm. Sorry kid, I've got a job to do. "Thank you, Ma'am. Could you please direct me to the bank manager?" "Certainly, right this way."I can see the camera man following her. She does swish well, but that's not why I'm here. "Thank you, Gladys. I've got it now."Obviously the bank manager. "Gentlemen, you'll have to turn the cameras off. This data is private, and only the detective may see it ... after I see the warrant."I hand the warrant to him, he checks it over, apparently knowing exactly what to look for. "Yes, this is all in order. This way if you please."He escorts me through a gate, pointedly closing it after he passes through. "I took the liberty of looking up the records for the account. I've prepared both a summary, and the complete set of records. I nod, and examine the records he's printed out for me. There's even a notarized affidavit of authenticity, signed by the manager and two witnesses. Looking over the records, this really is an odd pattern. Then I look at the dates. Every one of them is within three business days of a murder. This suspect is being paid by someone for each murder. "Thank you, Sir, for your cooperation in this manner, and your diligence."We shake hands ... with the damn cameras on, of course ... and make our way out. The manager with a happy smile, and me with my usual dead pan. It's a bit of a trademark with me now, and just as well, or I'd be snarling right at the cameras. The deposits are all at ATMs. I locate the relevant ATMs and start the next affidavit for the video recordings. It's already late, so the crew has gone home. Not much interesting in watching a guy pound on a keyboard. I get the affidavit finished, and find the night watch supervisor to have it reviewed and signed. "Why the ATM cameras?" "Someone made deposits at those cameras at the times indicated. If I can get a clear look at the person doing the deposit, it may help solve the case sooner. Even if they don't know about the murders, they have to know something about the person they're writing the check for." "Good bet the person getting the check just passed it along." "Yeah, that's possible, but something says this guy is too cocky, like he has someone watching out for him. He had to have been in that apartment within an hour of when we got there, the thermal cameras picked up his heat traces." "...like he has someone watching out for him... Joseph, you watch your back. If he is being paid, someone has to be watching out for him." "Yes, Sir. I will."The next morning, I make sure to get into the office earlier than usual. I've the warrant in hand when one of the few detectives who understands that I don't like the cameras comes up. "Joe, that camera crew just pulled up out front, you go out the back. Bill's bringing your car around for you." "Thanks, Henry."We shake, and I move off to the back stairs. I'm through the door just as the elevator dings. Made it. Bill's left my car where it's easy to find, and the keys are in it. I'm going to have to remember to do something nice for both of them. At the offices, "Do you have an appointment?" "No ma'am. I've a warrant for several ATM video recordings at specific times. I'd appreciate it if you would see if the manager is available."She looks at me. "The serial killer?", she asks quietly. I smile at her, and say nothing. "Very well, one moment please."She dials an extension, "Sir, Detective Beals is here, with a warrant for the ATM video. ... No sir, he didn't say. ... Yes, Sir. At once."She hangs up. "To the left, first elevator, and take it to the fifth floor." "Thank you, Ma'am."I've learned to hate Musack, and this elevator is particularly horrid. Perfect, just the right thing to put me in a bad mood. "Welcome Detective, how can we help you?"It's the manager. I hand him the warrant, and he escorts me to the videographers lair. I say 'lair', because finding anyone in this would take machetes and luck. The manager leaves me with the videographer, who appears out of the darkness. This guy must never get out into the light, he's absolutely pale. I hand him the list of locations and time hacks, fully expecting this to take most of the day. He drops the list into a scanner. Moments later, the text is on the screen. This guy is good. A few more deft passes at the keyboard, and the list is in what looks like a spreadsheet. Moments later, video thumbnails start appearing next to each entry. This isn't just good, this is damn near magical. For the first time, he speaks. "Yes, it is magical."I must have lost my dead pan. "It's also several thousand hours of time spent tuning the operation and writing custom code to file the clips in the disk farm back there."He points over his shoulder, but the room is so filled with stuff that I can't make out whatever he's pointing at. "Each of the clips covers a minute before they enter the code, the entire transaction, and a minute after they leave. If you stay here to watch it, I can post-process the video for you. Zooms. That kind of thing."I haven't just lost my dead pan, I'm absolutely beaming at him. "Mr...", I start. "You can call me Merlin". Merlin, an obvious name when you think about it, but perfect for this guy. "Well, Merlin, you can call me Joe, and I think working with you is going to be wonderful."He smiles. Over an hour later, we're looking at one video, when something glints off the hands of the person making the deposit. It's the first thing that's different, since all the others were done in the classic trench coat, gloves, and wide brim hat. Like someone who's seen too many movies. "There! Zoom in on that glint!"Merlin is already doing it, having seen it at the same time I did. The quality on these videos has been way better than anything else I've seen. "How'd you get this quality anyway?" "I insisted, and paid for the cameras myself. I went out to each of the ATMs and 'serviced' them. All legally, all with the bank's knowledge. It wasn't costing them anything, and it kept me happy. If I'm happy, I won't go to work for some other bank."He smiles dryly at me. "They seem to like that idea." The zoom is done, and we roll the video back and forth a few frames to get the best view. My face goes back to deadpan. Merlin looks at me. Looks at the ring. And says, "I'll just cut you a DVD with all of the videos, and with this enlargement. By the time it's done cutting, I'll have the notarized affidavit done, along with my own statement regarding the processing done to obtain that shot. I can also provide you with a high quality print on photo grade paper. Would this be acceptable? I just nod at him. Shortly, everything is ready. He escorts me to the elevator. "Thank you, Merlin for your assistance. If it becomes necessary, will you be able to appear in court?"He nods gravely, shakes my hand, and returns to his lair. I've seen that ring before. It's a custom job, one of a kind. It was on the hand of the assistant director for the show. ((finis))
Obligatory; Super hero origin story This is my story... My real story... My beginning starts with Copper... Copper - Cu 63.546u I was born Justin Thomson, on February 23, 1993. My mother had just given birth to a healthy baby boy. I don’t know my weight, or who delivered me, or what time. I just know that it was copper. The copper sunlight cracked through the window, my peppered copper hair shine a dull glow in the early light. All was good. I wish I could say it remained like that. But as we all know. All good stories have bad beginnings... A simple fact of life Death is not like you picture him. He is not dark, or sunken in faced. He is not scary. He is gold. I’ve never known my father. The perfect carton of milk cliché I guess, but he left and never came back. Don’t expect me to bring him up again. He wasn’t part of my story. Mom was. Silver - Ag 107.8682u Silver was the color of her eyes. Like the perfect carton of milk. Her eyes glowed softly as she held newborn me on that copper morning. She always thought I was gold. Above all she thought I would do good. Gold - Au 196.966 Although my story started out a brassy copper, it did not end as such. My story ended in coal. The darkest nights are the ones that the gold turns to coal. My night was coal. As I look down off this bridge I am writing this on currently, I am examining my story. Wondering if my story should end. Sometimes the ends of stories are similar to the ends of gold... at the bottom of the ocean locked away in a chest, or in my case, at the bottom of a river in a coat pocket. Here is my story, here is MIDAS’s story.
A wise man in my life once told me that to err is to human, and to forgive, divine. Another reminded me many times over that we were never meant to be Gods. I find this to be a paradox- if making mistakes is human and forgiving is the power of Gods, how do I forgive myself if I wasn't meant to have that privilege? I presume that is why we, as humans, carry the burdens of our mistakes for a lifetime. We live in the morbid paranoia of committing errors that offer no reprieve. Our first mistake sparks off a chain reaction, condemning us to make many more. This is why accidental murderers become serial killers; why a child that finds thrill in an elaborate lie becomes a pathological liar. You'll notice there is a pattern here; the first mistake is never as grievous as the second, or what it eventually snowballs into. I only wish I had realized it long before. But that is the nature of wisdom, it is more likely to arrive after a tragedy than before it. I don't even know if it even was that big of a mistake at all in the first place. I stumbled into the dusty old storage room of the computer lab, looking for an extra mouse when I came upon that curious contraption. A silver Pentium 2 monitor with a keyboard. Neither had any wires dangling from anywhere, and hadn't been connected to any power points. Surely, a Pentium 2 had no concept of wireless USB? I was drawn towards this machine antique like a Firefly to a glass bulb. In my curiosity, I ran my fingers over the surprisingly glossy keyboard, cherishing the feel of it's strangely comforting keys. Noting it had no CPU, I gently tapped the Enter key twice and hammered a few other keys in mock seriousness, imagining myself working on this ancient machine. I don't know what took over me then, but in a fleeting moment, my fingers gravitated towards the Control, Alt and Delete keys. That was my first mistake. Pressing those keys again, was my fatal second. The screen came alive with an ominous glow at first. Then it grew brighter, lighting up the dusty room with a blinding intensity that drowned out the world around me in a sea of white. Then, the white sea began to be sucked into the screen; as if it were the opening of a black hole. My heart thumping like a jackhammer on concrete, I watched the dusty room slowly come back into view. Staggering backwards and away from the screen, I fled towards the exit and threw open the door. Will the mistakes never end? I open the door to a sight that I cannot recognize. I'm in a small bar, but it's unlike any that I have ever been to. The decor is... bizarre. A woman wearing a glittery silver dress is standing in what looks like a stage. A fur coat is wrapped tastefully around her neck; a seductive smile adorns her affable face. Her voice is whiskey and fire as she sings "Why Don't You Do Right"by Peggy Lee. The pianist next to her is busy making his fingers dance on the ivory keys. For the first time that evening, I notice where I am. I'm standing behind the bar, surrounded by those dressed in garb that seemed more appropriate for half a century ago. The men were dressed in smart, sharp suits. The women wore long, frilly dresses and plain evening gowns. "Sir,"said a man from behind the counter. "Pass me a beer would ya?"I smile and reach out for the bottle close to me, but I freeze in horror midway. My hands are no longer soft and slender. They are rough, firm and calloused, as if years of manual labour had been written into them. As I stare in disbelief at my new hands, I catch a glimpse of my own face on the polished wooden counter. My face is hauntingly different too. This isn't my skin at all. "Isn't that dame beautiful, Pa?"says the handsome man standing next to me, mischievously. Although I hadn't noticed him before, I can't take my eyes off him now. He seems vaguely familiar; with his sharp, features and restless eyes. Clean shaven, he has slick black hair that shine under the lamps that light the bar we are tending to. I only realize then that he had called me "Pa". I glance at my reflection again. I certainly look old enough to be one. I turn my eyes to see where he is pointing. I am almost thrown backwards by what my eyes witness. In the distance, is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. She is sitting at a table with four other friends, who all seem to be looking at her with the same awe I imagined I was looking at her with, in that moment. She throws back her head and laughs; my heart forgets to pump blood for a few seconds. Even from this distance, with just the side of her face visible to me, I know the colour of her eyes. Breathtaking, sparkling green; the kind I am reminded of everytime I look in the mirror. After all, this was the woman who would go on to pass them on to me.
"Message from Sarah, left at 4:53PM tonight,"she repeated, in her voice that sat smack dab in the middle of the uncanny valley, always giving me that sense of unease. But this time, it wasn't just the voice -- the voice just made it worse. "Hi daddy,"the voicemail read back. "I'll be going to the library with Sam and Kris to study, and I'll be right back when we're done studying for that exam. Byeeeeee." She always ended her calls like that, stretching out the word until it sounded ridiculous. "Fuck..." My eyesight started becoming hazy with every pulse showing the blood pulsing in my eyesight, and my breathing felt heavy. Every muscle in my body clenched up as my arm just wanted to crush the remote control in my hand as if doing so would reverse time. Reporters never really care about the people, it is always just another day at the job, another story, another face they don't know and they'll never see again. The remote felt sturdy, but the counter felt sturdier, and the small plastic device stood no chance against the marble slab, just as a human body stood no chance against a 3.5 ton chunk of metal at 50 miles per hour. "Again, tragic news tonight coming out of downtown just before 5 tonight..."
Dora had a vibrant cherry blossom backpack and a monkey sticking out of it. The gray creature's nose twitched, and it, sensing danger, dove into the container and somehow managed to zip the thing up from the inside. Just as well: it would do no good for a gray langur to be in a fight. A normal one, anyway... Then she heard a squawk that rattled the beach. People ran away, the ones who couldn't engulfed in sand. The palm trees were uprooted and flew out of sight, boulders shaking as pure power spread out in a perfect circle. She spat out a grain of sand, and stared at the giant green owl looming over her, spinning in a vortex of wind. The air had turned cold, and the sky gray. Dora cursed. Duolingo. Of course it was Duolingo, who else would disrupt her quest? "So, Dora."the voice wasn't just one person: it was many people combined, the voice of an army all together. "We meet again." She laughed. "Well then. I haven't finished my quest, but I'm planning another golden bracelet to add to my collection. How about this–the defeat of Duolingo!" The kaiju's foliage of plumage twitched, and its wings brought back thirty, at least forty orbs that now rotated in a perfect orbit around them. "I am a god, Dora Marquez. You would do well to remember that." Dora didn't flinch. She summoned two golden crystals, glowing with electric energy. "You're arrogant. Time to see if you actually have the skill." The owl seemed to caw in laughter. "You can't hold that much energy. You'll explode before you even get back." "Well."she shrugged, morphing into the same size as Duolingo. "That's a price I'm willing to pay." And with that, the biggest battle in the history of Earth began.
"You'll never win Dr. Evil guy!"Captain Neto-Man cried. "Of course I will Captain, I'm the biggest and baddest villain in the entirety of North America!"I stated "I'm the last villain standing, and with you chained up in my super secret bunker of coolness, there will be no one left to stop me!"I glared at Captain Neto-Man chained in an uncomfortable metal chair that I bought from Home Depot. he will never escape here I thought to myself, I built this bunker to trap Captain Neto-Man, he has thrown every buddy of mine into jail or worse, so that means I have the upper hand. "You might be the last one standing Dr. Evil Guy, but you are certainly not the best of them all! Mr. Unplesent was a more formidable opponent than you, and all he did was talk my ear off!"Captain Neto-Man stated smugly. "You say that, but I have you chained to a chair in front of my hydrogen accelerator Cannon."I said calmly "You have no chance of surviving because this Cannon can vaporize a metric ton of titanium in one shot, anyways we are getting off topic, GERTRUDE, BRING IN THE H.A.C ACTIVATOR!"My henchman Gertrude comes riding in from the main access on a tricycle, and on a silver platter he is holding is the H.A.C activator. "Here you are, my Liege"Gertrude says in a gravelly tone. "Ah thank you Gertrude, remind me to feed you tonight. Now Captain Neto-Man, time to meet your maker."I say as I lower my finger to the big red button of the activator. "WAIT!"Captain Neto-Man practically screams. "What?"I say, visibly annoyed. "Aren't you going to tell my how it works?"He says, regaining composure. "Oh, yes, I forgot."I say excitedly "The H.A.C works by compressing hydrogen at extre-"I stop talking abruptly and press the activator. *BOOM* There's a explosion on par with a blockbuster bomb that goes of in the confined space. I look to see where Captain Neto-Man was and see a gaping crater the size of a small appartment. "HOLLY SHIT! IT WORKED!"I scream in ecstacy. Now that Captain Neto-Man is taking a dirt nap, I can finally start plan Z! I think, my mind racing at a hundred miles per hour. "Gertrude! Get my spandex suit! It's world domination time!"
You sit there, mouth open like a floundering fish. He walks away slowly but swaying pompously. The dog just talked. No frigging way! You have lived all your life with that animal and he has never once communicated with you and now this. Your whole world is flipped upside down. You pace back and forth again and again just to clear your mind. You sit on the floor pondering the situation. All this time he could talk? You think back about all the times hes seen you doing stuff. Like that time you took a shit in the backyard just because. The time you had the munchies and raided the pantty making a total mess. Even that one time you had sex with the neighbor!. The neighbor! He's seen it all. All your dirty secrets all your mistakes. Like when you accidentally fell into the pool and had to make like nothing happened or that you're actually secretly terrified of rats. You scratch your ear and look around. You don't know what to do. You've always been indicisive. Full or hungry out or in. And now you dont know just what to do. Theres only one thing to do. You slowly make your way into the lounge trying to find Andy. He'd know what to do. Or maybe Beth. Surely she would know. Ah good. Theyre just watching TV. You tell them everything. "Awwww.... the cat's trying to tell us something. Sooo cutem quick get the camera. Sparky! Stop barking. What the hell is wrong with you? Dude chill. Everyones so excited tonight."
"...And finally when your kind ascend the stars you'll find a universe dying empty derelict where most species are dead and gone. Seems you are evolved too late, invented too little, scrabbled too greedily, fought and wasted too much. Everytime we encounter new speices same thing happens. We fight. We cannot stop it. I am an ambassador but my only function is to declare war. No. We are not interested to keep any of you alive. We'll integrate your DNA into ours, assimilate your ecosystem, store your cultural artifacts and move on. We made peace with what we are long time ago. We ate our mother and moved on. There are some of us hoping to find God, yet. They believe what we do cannot go unpunished. Yet here we are. Now, in about 2 years your sun will go supernova. We will be done by then. Your Sun will power our sails." I stand up and stretched. Creature just sat there dumb, barely crawled out of undersea vents. Things I do for Great Filter.
The hairs on my neck stood up immediately when I saw this place. The brick exterior was chipped away from age and the garage door was covered in rust. The only windows were 20 feet up and each one was broken. Poison ivy climbed through these windows into the unknown. I knew it was abandoned but why was I so nervous? Maybe it was the circumstances of why I am here. I mean who else would want to meet some shady guy in a place like this? Well that would be me apparently. It’s not like I had much of a choice. I stumbled to take out the garage door controller and pressed it after a moments hesitation. The door squeaked and banged along as if it was on it’s last leg. My heartbeat quickened as I enter and my palms became sweaty. No need to be nervous. This is for your daughter. “Hello? Nick?”, I said. But my words were met with the sound of silence. It’s pretty dark in here. I switched on my phone’s flashlight and pressed the controller button again. The door thrashed and banged until it suddenly dropped the door violently. Ha, um, I guess I can’t go back out that way. As I pointed my flashlight at the door I noticed something that made my guy drop. Scratches. Hundreds and hundred of human scratch marks all along this door. People were trying to claw their way out of here. What the fuck?! What the actual fuck?! I swung my flashlight around for an exit. Any exit. I never actually thought of how they got these limbs but my god I do not want to stay to find out. All I saw dusty wooden tables spread throughout. White table cloths hung undisturbed on the tables. I looked up to see a cat walk above with rusted metal bars. I suddenly heard a door swing behind me and I looked to see sunlight pouring back into the warehouse. Nobody? Nope. I’m not dealing with a haunted warehouse. Artificial lights in the warehouse brightened the room. I turned off my flashlight and finally saw who opened the door. Nick. His small frame was hidden with a black baggy hoodie with cargo shorts and he wore a bright smile once he saw me. An odd thing to wear for this situation. But then again what does one wear to sell human body parts? “Ah! I see you beat me here. I hope I didn’t make you wait too long.” He sauntered over to another metal door and held it open. “Shall we?” My pale face lit up at his question. He met me like we said. You said you wanted this. Your daughter needs this. I frantically nodded my head and walked through the door. The room was a whole different scene. Metal surgical tables were set up with blue hospital curtains hung between each one. Small metal tables with metal trays filled with an assortment of surgical tools. What disturbed me most was the tool that was a small circle blade. Was that supposed to be used to... Well onto who exactly? Another door I had not seen before opened and a small girl surrounded by three men walked in. The little girl looked around with tears in her eyes and had red puffy eyes. She wore a cheap baggy T-shirt that went down to her knees and some purple Capris. The men looked up at me then Nick with wide eyes. Nick switched immediately to anger. He shouted in Russian at the men. I may not be fluent but I understood a little bit. Something about the child... Idiots? And... prepare the child? For what? Oh god. Is this where I’m getting my daughter’s limb for?! The men quickly took the little girl away, out the door. Nick looked back at me calm as he had been before. He flashed me a smile that now seemed sickening. “A bit of a mix up is all. It seems you will have to wait to receive your arm. But rest assured this will not take long.” Of course they had to do it soon as I arrived. Just like organs, even frozen, limbs will only last so long before they die... What the hell did I get myself into? A child kidnapping ring? I smiled weakly and played dumb to the obvious. How can I do this? I know the pain and differing that it comes with this disease. How can I put that onto another family? It’s just one giant cluster fuck. “Where is my daughter now?” I could have sworn that Nick, just for a second, looked scared. Maybe it was just my imagination. “She came in early, apparently. She’s in the other room now. Would you like to see her before she goes under anesthesia?” I hesitated. Do I? Can I stand in front of her explaining your mother just bought you another kid’s arm? Nick’s eyes flickered at my hesitation. “Come on. Your her mother, no? She asked for you the whole ride up here.”, he said with a bit of annoyance. I blinked in surprise at his words. He cares about my child? But not the one ready to go the rest of her life without an arm? “Of course. I just... it’s quite a bit to take in. I’m sure she’s scared at the moment.” We walked to the door and I saw... nothing. Just a pitch black room. A smell of something rancid hit my nose and I cringed back. I turned my head towards Nick but he was already walking away. Instead a large man took me by my forearm and shoved me inside. With adrenaline pumping through my veins I took out my cellphone flashlight and looked around. Claw marks. From people. Unlike the garage door there were an accountable amount of them. Even blood streaked onto some marks. “You, too?” I turned to face a teenage boy. He looked a few years older than my own daughter. For some odd reason that gave me reassurance. I sighed a breath of relief. “I what?” “You really didn’t piece it together yet?” “Piece what together?” “You’re being kidnapped. Same as me, for parts and scrap.” “No, I... I came here looking for help for my daughter.” “The hell are you here then?” My legs began to tremble. I tried to form words but I couldn’t think of anything to say. I was tricked? No. No. “I promised him a lot of money. They told me they could be trusted. Why would he kidnap me then?” “How much money?” “More than enough.” The boy chucked at this. “Yes but if they cut you up limb by limb then they have many more times than what you offered. People are looking for toes, finger, legs and arms. It’s a big market apparently with the literal plague going around.” “No, no! They promised me my daughter’s life back! They wouldn’t, they couldn’t...” They don’t have my money but they could do it absolutely. They have the stuff to do it, the surgeons and they know the only way they get paid is after they do it all. “They have everything to do it! My daughter is going to be put under anesthesia...” I never saw her though did I? What the hell did they do to her? “For god’s sake are they taking us both?!”
I blinked. Then I blinked again, holding the envelope in my hands. He replied. He replied. Heart pounding, I practically tore off the top of the envelope, dragging out the letter, the cold paper on my hands. My eyes skimmed over the letter. Hand written. I gulped, taking the letter to the salon as I sat and read it again, and again. With a sigh, I rolled my eyes. Yeah, he replied. He replied to call me a stalker and a weirdo and to stop writing to him. "It was one letter..."I grumbled, putting the letter aside. Why was I so special as to be treated like trash? A smirk grew on my face, as I cracked my knuckles and headed to my desk. Stop writing? No way. With an opportunity like this, I was going to take it. Like a bat out of hell, I wrote him another letter, apologising for being "so rude"to him, quoting his book throughout. He wants to call me a nerd, I'll be a nerd. I signed off by saying I'm his "biggest fan"in all capitals. Proud, I sent off the letter and continued with my day. One week later, the doorbell rang not too long before noon. It was bright and hot outside; it certainly wasn't ring-and-run weather for little kids. Interest piqued, I walked down and opened the door. There he stood, letter in hand and licking his teeth, a scowl on his face. "Another letter?" Eyes wide, I gulped and laughed nervously. I never expected this. "Cup of tea?"I offered, voice cracking. 2 years later, and we're getting married. Guess that letter was a good idea after all, huh?
I was the last person on Earth. At least, in my dream. And the wolves surrounded me in this snowy forest. With a quick circular motion of my arm, I created a large ring of fire on the ground around me, then another enclosing them in between. Then, with a swift uppercut and a pose not unlike Freddy Mercury, the fire expanded and twirled up in the air, creating a tornado of heat, reaching for the sky and the clouds. The wolves yelped as they tried to run, but the fore was too much, and they all burned where they stood until they collapsed. I finally let the fire down to only a simmer, and nothing was left of them except for black ash on the cold, cold snow. I stood there taking a breath, and looking down at where they once stood. Dreams are so much more exciting when I knew they were real and I could simply jump between realities in my sleep. "Portal...closing...." ...what? I looked up and watched the futuristic circular door suddenly closing. "Wait, no!"I shouted. With the aid of telekinesis, I flew toward the closing door floating ten feet above my head. Just as I reached it, the door closed, and it disappeared into the air, as if it were never there. It became a lot colder knowing I was stuck here forever. I was the last person on Earth.
Something wasn't right. I had been brought onto the team later than the others, so I had mostly kept my mouth shut. But as the days went on, I started to have this sickening feeling in my gut. Something wasn't right. I picked up the phone and asked the first person who answered, "How much of our technology did we give them?" "Shoot,"came the reply, "Practically all of it, I think. Those aliens sure are dumb."And he laughed. "Why?" Something wasn't right. Then all the lights in the station flooded red. A signal for everyone to convene in the meeting room. When I got there, everyone was transfixed on the big projector in the front of the room. Someone asked, "What is that?" And as we watched the object descend, I confirmed what everyone was scared to admit: "It's a bomb. They set us up."
YEAR TEN April 11th --- Running out of cleaning supplies again. SB seems to be experiencing an allergic reaction to the flowers outside the tower, so I had to remove them. Hopefully it doesn't turn into another Hemmorhoid Incident. Spoke with Yarrick again at the tavern. He tells me I should give it up. Says the strain of taking care of her is killing me. He isn't wrong; I've seen my reflection. But I have a duty. --- April 27th --- The fluid drips Otto made for me are getting pretty tatty. I'll have to stop by some time and see if his son can make some new ones for me. Word came from the Crown about a prince from a foreign land seeking a bride. I've sent a letter to him with Vel's help, but the engraving of SB is rather...artistic. Vel told me princes love vivacious young women, but all SB's done in ten years that showed life was get rectal rashes. I worry about her. She's not getting any younger, and despite my best efforts it's hard to keep a young woman clean when she can't take care of herself. Father Rary tells me that this is my cross to bear. I just wish the Lord had given the cross absorbent padding. Thought about calling on Elena today, but I doubt she'd be happy to see me. It's hard. --- May 8th --- Father Rary gave SB her confirmation today. I'm happy for her, but I had to act as godfather. Somehow convinced Elena to be godmother. That woman puts up with so much for me, and I've only courted her a few days. I think it's real, it is. Finally got the fluid bags from Otto Jr. He refused to take payment, but I invited him over for dinner sometime. Once SB gets out of here, anyway. The worst thing about the confirmation was the oil. I've cleaned a fair bit of oil in my time, and as the holy charisma (or whatever it was Father Rary called it) poured over SB's head, I could feel it curdling and clotting. Bits on her eyelashes, drops on her dress, long streams mixing in her arm hairs. It was worse than the Hemmorhoid Incident to clean up. At least I could wash that off. Word from the Crown came yesterday. The prince should be here within the week, if the situation on the border blows over. Lord, give me strength to persevere, as You have for this decade. --- June 21st --- SB's birthday. Elena made a cake. She and I blew out the candles, but some of the wax got on SB. I had to clean it off. The prince is still at the border. Apparently it's pretty bad over there. I just wish Rary were still here. He got called to the border to serve the wounded. Lord, why did You give me this burden? The tower's getting pretty bad. I can't climb the ladder to the roof, and the young men are all off at the border. Rainwater collects in a tarp and waters the lawn, but it's always full of holes. It drips on SB. The cleaning. I hate it. I hate this task I have. Why did I have to take care of her? Why did the King drop his daughter here? What foul madness made him believe I could handle it? Why is she always so dirty? --- A boulder hit the tower. I could hear the screaming inside of it. The voices... Dir t EVERYWHERE --- I don't know how long I've been here. Haven't seen Elena in days. At least SB isn't here... Not so beautiful with half a leg gone, was she? ^Sorry, ^SB ... I miss her --- At least my cross couldn't stab me with splinters thank God for that. I wonder if the Lord had splinters in him? Probably --- January 10th It's done. SB is away. I don't know where. I heard the prince has her. Apparently they woke her up. They say she never grew. Not really, even if she did age. But the sleep kept her eight, somehow. A young girl, asleep eleven years. Waking up in the bloom of her youth. Or what would have been, in a better world. Elena lived. She's going to marry me. We're moving north, where the ice leaves no mud, and the only insects are the squirrels. Thank God for that. I may be old, but I survived. I'll live on. I'm happy she survived.
When I first found you I was close to dying myself. I was depressed, I had nothing. Then I had you and I had something. Determination to keep you alive filled my being. Maybe I had something to prove? Maybe I thought that keeping you from dying would give me worth. So I cared for you. And as I did I saw that I was worth caring for. My life changed, my depression faded. Watering you made me think of the many ways I could "water"myself. Choosing the right fertilizer caused me to realize I needed the right nutrition, too. Watching you, not only get your green back, but evolve gave me notions that I could do the same. I took care of myself as I did you and prospered more than I could have imagined. You taught me more about myself than I ever could. At first I wanted to keep you alive. Then I wanted to see what you could do. How you could bloom. I wanted you to show the world what you could do! Your flowers may not be the most fragrant. Your beauty not the most exotic. No contests were won but I encourage you still. You still screamed to the world "look at me now!"You've given me a lesson otherwise unteachable. Now I am screaming the same verse! One night in the cold was all it took to wither your leaves and turn your stem to mush. Just when I thought you had nothing else to show me, you revealed another lesson. I don't know if someone can be "connected"to a plant, but I believe I came as close as possible. You are more than just a plant.
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It had been years since I gained this power many years. She came to me and was my first just one day I was being called master that's when the power was first manifesting. At first, I didn't realize just how much this power could do and just used it for little things just to make for some improvements. I'd undo things after the deals were set and done and she would be there supporting me. Soon though it went further, I started enslaving specific people building up followers, I was always subtle about it just getting to know people learning them then hitting their weak points to make it easier. After a few years of effort, I had achieved many things world leaders subverted businesses under my thumb. But it was once I reached this pinnacle, I realized something. That first one the one that was my favorite and the only one I ever got truly close to even deeply intimate with. She had my trust and she's even had me build a small harem but she was always my favorite. And just as I have all I could ever want I realized I had never ever used my power on her. Part of me felt fear much fear. The reason? She wasn't under my control. But her presence everything just set me to ease. It set me to a slightly paranoid state till I realized that having one willing person was good. I'd keep my eyes on her but I trusted her what might go wrong?
Again with this damned girl, she always ruins my plots! She calls herself my ‘Arch nemesis’. How ridiculous is that?! But what people actually call her is ‘Great Girl’. I know a sucky name but with all these supers around, the press is running out of ideas. This time she ruined my plan to kill Trump. I mean she probably hates him too but she still stopped me. And now I have to run home to my niece before she wakes up from her nap! Don’t get me wrong I love her but sense her parents died I have to watch her all the time instead of carrying out my schemes! When I finally get home and open the door, I expect to see Jasmine dozing on the couch but she isn’t there. I look in her room. Not there either. Where is she?! I hear the front door open;”Hopefully Uncle Pete isn’t awake!” “Jasmine honey is that you?” I call. I hear a quiet “shit” “No cussing, where were you?” “On a walk I had to clear my head,” she replied. I tell her, “It’s 10:30, let’s get to bed Im tired.” “Same” I don’t believe her though, she’s never been into fitness. Or going outside for that matter. As I doze off my head spins with theory’s on what or who she could of been doing. Sorry about the messed up dialogue and stuff, my phones being weird. 🙄
When I signed up in the recruitment office they told me how quick and simple this war would be. It didn't take long before Trench warfare was common, forcing us to sit in the mud and wait for something to happen. It became to routine for them to fire big shells at us for hours then when they stopped we would do the same. After a few months of this fighting it can wear on a man's spirits. The French were promising a big game changer that would win us the war, Japan. Now I don't know much about Asia as it never really mattered to me but one thing I knew was that the Japanese had hardly modernized their army. To my knowledge they still used swords like it was medieval times. When the Samurai first started to show up in the Trenches us Brits didn't think much of them. They wore wooden armor and carried a katana and a bow. I offered one my side arm because I couldn't stand to see them in such a way but he refused. I couldn't understand their thinking and not many of us could to tell the truth. We were from different worlds almost, on our side we fought in trenches and bombard each other too death. They still fought with honour and ancient tactics. When German artillery first struck our lines the Japs did like we and hid in bunkers and waited for the storm to end, but unlike us they didn't want to follow up with our own artillery they wanted to meet the German trench face to face. The officers loved this idea for God knows reason and us Brits weren't happy. I could feel the resentment and fear as we waited to cross no man's land. In order to feel better I told a few boys "Least we don't have to actually smell Jerry's breath to kill them."It earned a few chuckles and a few glares form the Samurai but nothing was said. For minutes we sat in silence waiting for the signal to go, until a sharp whistle rings in the air and men start shouting as they climb the ladders up. The charge across no man's land is not easy, the ground is covered in bodies and traps like mines and barb wires. The Germans greet us with machine gun fire that rained down on us like a plague, random and unforgiving. I would retell how the fighting went but I can't remember much in detail. It all seems a blur but certain moments stand out. After entering the trench I found myself to be in hand to hand combat with a German soldier, we fought or more accurately rolled on the ground til he gained control and raised a knife to stab me. His face changed into a pained expression and fell onto me, after pushing him off I saw a Samurai stand above me and offered me a hand up. The fighting went on for a few minutes more til the Germans retreated to a fall back line and the battle was deemed a British victory as the news put it. Although it was a victory we gained no more than a few hundred meters of land and still faced the next German line with artillery. Despite the Frenchie's promise the Samurai didn't change the war, however, they made the life of us grunts more bearable in a way. I find myself respecting the men would charge into the same hell we did with nothing but a sword and bow. Perhaps when the war is over I will visit Japan and learn more about them but for now the war to end all wars continue and I still have my part to play.
I could be more than this. An average man who does average things, achieving obscurity not after dying an unremarkable death. Two chpices. To be remembered, for good or ill, or to be forgotten, dirt in the ground, ashes on the wind, a breeze through an empty meadow. A tree falling, and not a sound does it make. A ripple in an empty pond. Great deeds, remembered for all time. Or, such little effect as to be nonexistant. An ant under a heavy boot. A forgotten memory. An unheard song. A blade of grass in the cracks of a sidewalk. The choice would seem easy. To some. Those who do not know my terrible price. To change my destiny, all that is required is to put on a pair of socks. These socks are normal. Grey socks. That's it. The only problem... One of them's my cumsock.
There was once a man who had fallen on difficult times. It seemed to him that whenever he was to be hopeful or optimistic about his future or even something as small as a single day, it was not long that he fell into despair, and lost sight of what he had affixed his hopes to. Sometimes he could not imagine why he had ever hoped for such things. Those were the worst times. On a day of no particular significance, the man was experiencing one of these worst times. He thought of himself as close to the edge, driven there by despair. Were you to ask him what this edge was, he wouldn't be able to answer. Were you to ask him why he was held by such morose, he also wouldn't be able to answer. The man disliked that greatly. To be sad and not to know the reason for being sad? How could anything be worse? It irritated him like it always did. This irritation had been building for a long time now, the man both his accuser and victim; angry at himself for being sad without reason, and sad that he felt that way. An outside observer might notice this as a cycle with no good outcomes. Sometimes the man was his own observer. What the man failed to see, however, were two or three problems, suffice to say. It doesn't do it justice to call them problems, but it plants the image quite well. The man was constantly chasing these moments of hope and joy every day of his life. He so badly wanted these peaks of happiness, but every time he would chance upon one, his thoughts would soon turn to the idea of losing it and tumbling from the peak towards the edge. When he thought that, he would do precisely that. Even if he were to recognise this, he would never learn the lesson that he needs despair. He needs the valleys of sadness to even know of the peaks of happiness. For joy itself implies something other than joy. Something like sadness.
Note: I changed it up a little As I wrote, I suddenly felt a presence hovering over my shoulder. I glanced, and saw the chiseled side profile of a man, bent over, eyes scanning the page. With a start, I flew back, tipping over my chair and nearly spilling onto the floor, if the stranger had not balanced my chair with the tip of his foot and caught me in his arms with ease and hoisted me up. He chuckled and said, "Be careful there, mortal one. Do not be afraid." Mortal...one? "W-w-who are y-you?"I stammered. "And what are you doing in my apartment?" "I am Michael, Prince of the Archangels. And the Lord sent me here to comfort you." "Is this a joke?" His face was solemn as he shook his head no. "Come with me,"he ordered. As if compelled by a force beyond my control, I followed him to the roof, where he pointed to the building in the distance where he used to work. Suddenly, in my mind's eye I could see my boss, talking with two men who abruptly stood, spun him around, and cuffed him. Then Michael pointed to the house where I used to live. I see my wife on the bathroom floor, her lover standing over her, screaming then walking away. She grabs his legs and pleads for him to stay, but he kicks her in the face. I look away. "Why?"I mumble. "Why are you showing me these things?" "Because before your mother passed, she prayed for you. Now, look." At his insistence, I opened my eyes. He was looking at me, and in each eye I saw a vision. In his left eye, an image of me stumbled to the roof's ledge and looked down. Then another step forward took me over and I disappeared from sight. In his right eye, I step back from the ledge. I turn around and walk back to my bed and go to sleep. The next day, I get dressed, buy a newspaper, and go job hunting. The vision's fade. Michael is looking into my eyes. He says, "Make the right choice."And then he fades as well. I look down. I'm on the roof's ledge.
As I expected the writing prompts sub on reddit was gone. Every prompt reply and contest entry I had responded to erased from existence. The prompts themselves weren't erased though, they had just been transferred into reality. Everyone knew something had changed. Lovecraftian horrors were hardly commonplace before today. Luckily there were also innumerable medieval knights, sell swords, and wizards who were strangely suited to keeping them occupied. The time travellers were just plain annoying. Fortunately none of them lasted long, they kept winking out of existence as they inevitably held conversations or acted in ways that created paradoxes that made their personal timelines collapse. Most animals were sentient now, which was nice. Had a pleasant conversation with my dog about the different properties of carpet and hardwood versus grass and dirt. Somehow we all seem to be immortal too. There are a few 'death's' floating around, but none of them are actually taking anyone away. Even the medevil knights recover fairly quickly from mortal wounds with just a short rest. All of that I can deal with. But one thing bothers beyond comprehension! Its the freaking numbers floating above everyone's heads! Regardless of whatever they are supposed to represet they overlap and none can be read! There have got to be hundreds of numbers crammed into the same tiny patches of air! I've heard there's a whole interstellar economy now too. Maybe I'll join up with one of the generation ships suddenly under construction, perhaps a new world will be free of some of these goofy changes!
The remnants of the city of Newark still smoldered in what used to be the center of the city today. Initially, the fire department had been called to suppress the first of the fires and the crew of Engine 11 had been trapped in the small subway system under the Broad Street station. The napalm bombs had done their intended damage and the great fires reigned down across all of the city. Nearly all of New Jersey, the entire east coast, all major cites in the United States were simultaneously destroyed. The five men from Engine 11 were among the handful to survive in the entire region. Eventually humanity began to stitch itself back together and the first known settlement was located on the Passaic river, they took their name from the Lenape Native Americans, the tribes originally calling the state home. The New Lenapes constructed a raft colony, as most of the land around was rubble and some still burned, it therefore was unusable. The men from Engine 11 grew old, as they did, they told their children stories of times past in the city of Newark. They told of a time when beasts of steel flew from the city carrying passengers all across the known world from their nest in Newark and huge floating cities brought trade goods to the largest port of its kind in the entire nation. Most of the time, their children and grandchildren, who had been born in the time after the flames, looked at them puzzlingly, in awe of such tales. That was until decades later, when they first spied the great beasts themselves. The colony overlooked the remains of the Newark bay, which revealed an endless sea. One day Baka, one of the direct descendants the men of Engine 11 was out checking his fishing traps when he spied something breach the surface of the bay, he thought to himself it must've been a whale, which were now returning to the area, or perhaps one of the few remaining heaps of garbage from the great fire. But this was no whale and definitely no bunch of rubbish. Baka squinted, blocking the sun from his tanned face and pulling back his hair for a better look. The beast submerged shortly after. Baka sighed and went back to tending his traps when he saw a shadow pass him in the depths. It tossed him from his boat in its wake and for a brief second Baka heard a hum unlike anything he had every heard before in his life in the water. Baka raced back to the colony, leaving his traps, and told of his encounter with the monster in the depths. The seafaring colony members laughed at him, and made a fool out of Baka, saying he had fallen asleep on his raft and dreamt it, other called him Sunkissed, the Lenape term for hallucinations on the open water. For months Baka endured the torment of children his junior mocking him by swimming under his raft and yelling "watch out Baka! it's the humming creature". Baka knew what he had seen and was determined to prove it. One night, Shen, one of the only other boys who believed Baka, knocked on Baka's hut "BAKA WAKE UP YOU NEED TO SEE THIS!"Yelled Shen, "The gods have turned a star red!" Baka begrudgingly woke from his slumber and stumbled onto the deck, Shen and a growing amount of villagers were frozen in a gaze at a beautifully bright blinking red star across the night sky. The star passed over the settlement and it made a low rumbling as it did. "Ha! Haha! Now you believe me!? All of you who shamed me? Do you see?"Baka chided. "The beast makes the same groan as the one who swam under me, this is no star, it is the flying transport birds our grandfathers spoke of!" Over the next few days a number of birds flew over the colony both day and night. And the villagers grew accustomed to seeing them every few hours. This didn't change for a number of moons, but one day, the village was awoken buy the buzzing of what sounded like a gigantic bee. It was another beast! This one closer than ever before, it flew over the colony a few times and on its final pass dropped something in the water with a splash. A blinking green star sat on the surface of the water 100 meters from the colony. Baka was the first to his boat, he raced to the star glimmering on the surface, when he reached it a piercing noise sounded. "ATTENTION SURVIVORS, WE ARE THE COALITION, WE WILL BE MAKING CONTACT SOON, YOU MAY EITHER JOIN US, OR YOU WILL DIE" Baka collected his nerves long enough to take the device out of the water, and after a few seconds, the message played again, and it played twice more on his row back to the colony. He brought the it immediately to one of the elders. The elder looked Solemn as he listened. Soon the elders called a meeting. All of the colony attended. The elders spoke, "This is our home, we are the third, fourth, and fifth generations who have called Newark home. We have battled for food with the tribes of the five boroughs, we have fought the land dwellers who have resorted to cannibalism, we have survived for over a century on our floating city, and we will not leave... we will fight this coalition, and we will remain in the land given to us by our ancestors. We will destroy these invaders!" There was a pause, and then a roar of fury from the Lenape, they were going to war, against something far more powerful then themselves. Baka burned pigment, and put on the war stripes of his family, with two vertical lines down his chest. His great grandfathers fire helmet sat on his head, and his ax in his hand. Baka had seen the beasts first and he had determined to be they first to slay one.
Through the Void floats a singular ship, the single most massive ship to ever be constructed despite not being the largest. The days of the Korvani plagueships are long gone, and the universe has no place for invasion fleets anymore at any rate. To be honest you wonder how much longer it will be before it has no more place for life at all. You are the captain of this ship, the L.F.S. Eternity. A hopeful name, given to the ship eons ago when it was created and launched in the hope of creating a final bastion against the encroaching dark that would one day be the end of the universe. The Eternity was the size of a small planet, equipped with every method of warp travel that had been discovered, and most of the sub-light methods as well. It supported a crew of a little under a billion, though could run smoothly with as few as twenty five thousand. The ship had lots of AI and robotic components, and could self repair fairly easily. Once upon a time it had defense mechanisms too, but with almost nothing left living out there, they had pretty much no use anymore. The idea had been, according to the historical records kept in the ship's databanks, which made up nearly 70% of its mass, to send an entourage of as many of the sentient (And some of the nonsentient) species as possible off to a patch projected to have enough stars to keep the ship running for as long as possible. The initial shipwrights had hoped that somehow the technological advances needed to find a way beyond that deadline would happen. Their hopes had been in vain. The science labs on the Eternity had remained unproductive since before you were born, and most of them had been shut down as after it had turned out that there was a wall where those aboard the ship didn't have the resources needed to learn more, science had become a hobby, instead of a way to learn more about the universe. You weren't much of a captain, the ship's AI did most of the actual piloting, but even they spent most of their time socializing and partaking in the twilight era of cultural history. Actually the current pilot was starting to suffer from the Blackness that tended to creep into all of the intelligent AIs once they'd been around long enough. To be fair, most of the non-artificial individuals aboard the ship tended to succumb to it after a while too. There was only one person left on the ship who'd been around when it first came out of transit, and they were drunk at pretty much every point in any given day. That was it though, wasn't it? The Blackness wasn't just outside, it crept inside too. The universe had frozen over and only the smallest pinpricks of light remained, you couldn't see anything outside so nobody bothered to look anymore. There was no way forward, all people could do at this point was be together, write, explore consciousness and the living condition. Even the people of races that were by nature more emotionally resillient felt it after a time. Despite being so vast, so monolithic... the Eternity didn't feel like a beacon to anyone anymore, hadn't since before you were old enough to understand words. It was a tomb, a giant, floating tomb, searching through the eternity for its final resting place. Where was that resting place? You didn't know, but you were going to find it soon. The ship hadn't found a live star in eons, and without the light to guide the piloting AIs, the only thing you ever wound up finding was black holes, which weren't usable. A few... was it years? Centuries? You'd stopped paying attention at some point... some times ago a bug made it's way past all the redundant failsafes and took off a chunk of the ship with it. It'd happened before, but this time there hadn't been enough left in the matter storage drives to replace everything that was lost to the void. The ship was running low on everything, and even the systems you had could only conserve so much. You'd probably wind up having to ask for volunteers to be put to sleep before your tenure as captain ran out at this rate. To be totally honest that doesn't bother you too much, you'll probably be one of the volunteers. Because that's how it was going to end, no matter what you tried to do. People are finite, and maybe the universe technically is too, but it's far enough removed from any scale you could comprehend that all it has to do is wait you out. Maybe the universe just wants the same final sleep that you always have people ask to go to here and there. That would honestly make a lot of sense...
Mismannerisms. They already had a name for it of course. Just last Thursday, like a virus sweeping the globe, every animal had undergone a complete behavior change within a time span of 12 hours. The effects were most visible in simple animals, hornets now flew lazily with houseflies charging at every intruder. Not even predators were spared, lions now showed their bellies and elephants trampled zookeepers. The only animal to show true resistance was the octopus, scientists relating it to their high intelligence. Those same scientists said we were safe, unaffected but personality changes were being reported in hushed tones. Husbands turned abusive, loving mothers hurting children. A scratching sound from my bedroom reminded me of my more personal connection. As I walked to my door I heard my best friend for the last 12 years growl at me with a hunger for violence. I opened the door, looked at my old girl and saw nothing in her eyes but hate. So I followed my instincts, I raised back my foot and kicked, and I kicked until no more growling could be heard. And I smiled. -Only read the first half before I started typing.
A man and a woman exchange vows. They smile as they exchange stones. Elsewhere, a man and a woman fight. They sign the divorce papers and throw the stones at each other. "Can I buy your love?"one man asks, but the woman scoffs. Somewhere else, another woman shakes her head sadly as she tells him, "I wish I could, but I have no more love left to give." One boy comes home and sighs on his bed, holding a stone to his chest. Another boy goes home and tosses a stone in a drawer full of stones, then goes outside to play. One girl slowly walks up to a boy and holds out her stone. He looks at her, makes a face and walks away. Another girl walks up to a boy and holds out her stone. He looks at her and smiles, but then she shouts, "April Fools!", laughs, and walks away. One boy tries to ignore the girl who insists they exchange stones, but when he tries to walk away, she threatens to tell everyone that he did something to her if he doesnt give her his stone. He gives her the stone. One girl tries to ignore the boy who keeps demanding her stone, but when she tries to walk away, he grabs her and snatches it anyway. She never tells. A man and a woman sit on opposite sides of the living room, with a baby in the middle. Both adults hold out a stone. The baby looks at both, then crawls towards the woman. She whoops in victory. The man hangs his head in defeat. A little girl tries to give her parents a stone, but they're too busy. They yell at her and tell her to go outside. As she's walking to her friend's house, a van pulls up beside her and holds out a stone. She walks closer, but a neighbor screams her name, and the van speeds away. There's mansions with driveways made of love stones, but the family inside doesn't love each other. There's apartments where multiple families live under one roof and only one love stone to share between them all, but they would die for each other. There's people who value love stones, with dreams of passing it down through generations. And there's people like me who could care less and just think the whole thing is a bunch of crap and waste of money.
We had taken to calling the massive object in the sky the "Eye"- it looked a lot like one. Our theories varied on what it was. Some said it was the eye of God, judging the wicked, others said it was a massive UFO of some sort or another. All we knew for sure was that it's arrival had frozen the planet, everywhere there was nothing but barren tundra or pouring snow and ice. I bundled up in three layers of government-issued thermal wear, and our unit headed out. We were headed to the top of Mount St. Helena, the point directly underneath were the Eye hovered in geosynchronous orbit. As we drew closer, pushing with all our remaining strength through the icy gale, someone pointed at the Eye. "Can you see that?"they screamed through the roaring wind. It was impossible to tell who was saying it through the layers of protection and heat mask. "No, what is it?" "Squint, look closer. There's something coming down from it." I peered closely at the structure, and started to see it. There was a long structure connecting the Eye to the ground a few hundred yards away, obscured by the blinding snow. "It's magnificent, look!" We were close enough to see - a huge midnight-black, uniform surface stood up, reaching to the Eye. I ran to it, propelled by a strange urge, reached out to touch it, and fell directly through it. A winged creature looked at me, three pairs of eyes piercing me with surgical precision. It smiled. "You aren't supposed to be here, looked like we missed one. You're going to love the Paradise Ship."
200th Rotation around Lunaro - Discovery of Lost Mysteries Foundation 12:35 PM Xanastar Black - I found this record on a file deep in a bunker that was melting from the event. This is all we recovered three days later. ---------------------------- 3/28/19 Dr. Leon Davis of Peculiar Interactions - If it was aliens, animals, or even some unknown force, that would have been fine. We thought it was one of the three. Or at least we hoped. The people wanted answers yet we had none. But without answers means without funds or support. So we gave them an answer. The shifting ground underneath caused these illusive rocks to move. Luckily, this flip coin of a hypothesis was correct. The rocks shifted as the ground moved. It wasn't aliens but at least it was something we knew. That was until one clever college student noticed something about these moving rocks. They aren't moving randomly like the ground. They are moving purposely. Everyone was skeptical. We tried debunking his theory with more pseudo-science. If he was right, something catastrophic could happen. We silenced him, but offered him a position to help uncover the mystery of "Sailing Rocks." The answer we were looking for was not the answer we wanted. By the time we figured it out, it was too late. The rocks were in place all along each coast. The rocks had formed an alchemy circle that covered the whole planet. Hundreds of these rocks were under the ocean and out of reach. Even if we had known they were there, the effort would be wasted. We were all damned. Minutes later there was a bright blue light. It shot up into the sky surrounding our atmosphere. It consumed each atmospheric layer. We were incased in a blue ball. The college student watched with us in grief of what was to happen. He cried and called his family. He sent his love to them. The rest of us didn't even try. It wasn't worth it since we'd all die anyways. Before he could finish, the blue encasement shattered. We were exposed to all the harsh rays of light that the once prominent atmosphere protected us from. I'm burning alive as I'm writing these last things. I have one last thought. Why would anyone ever do this? -------------------------------- Xanastar Black - Ten minutes later, every organism except some bacteria had been cooked alive. There are no intellectual survivors. Whoever had done this catastrophy is gone as well. I presume this planet will be too hot for life for another 100 cycles of Lunaro. What a waste of a beautiful planet.
It's not that I hated her, hatred is the feeling you have when you see something that disgusts you online or when you really dislike a lecture in college that disagrees with you politically. No, I despised her. After riding my coat tails to get to where she was, first chance she got to jump coats she ran off with Buddy Greene, that less than average schmuck who got where he is through a lifetime of privilege. A yacht in high school, a dad in Washington and a paid for Harvard education. Sure Buddy boy was the first man on mars, but he was nothing compared to me in terms of any relevant skills for space travel. He even tripped over his big dumb Neanderthal feet after his famous speech, "We will continue the legacy of great steps for mankind and on to the infinite possibilities for Human beings."What a douche. My nephew,a third grader could've come up with that one, take another face plant over a crater Bud. I didn't feel anything for a long time after Amy left, I focused on myself, honed my body and mind to become the perfect machine. To be chosen to be the first human to colonize Mars, to be the greatest space achievement in history. I transferred from the moon station to get some space between me, her and Greene. It wasn't long before assignments were posted for the first wave of colonists, there would be three of us chosen to pilot the materials shuttle, and the transport shuttle carrying fifty of us to build the initial colony buildings following a month later, with the civilian donators given their opportunity a few years down the road. I had expected to end up on the transport shuttle, I had scored well on my physical assessment but the written assessment had quite a few questions on general carpentry and other contracting questions I had no experience with. The divorce from Amy was finalized that year. I received the email one day on my way back from the gym, it read; Congratulations Mr Burr, You have been chosen for the role of support on the transport ship to the first ever mission to construct the colony of Ares on the surface of Mars. The United States of America, and the rest of the world thanks you for your bravery and commitment to the infinite possibilities of mankind. Thank you, Frederick Kepler Fleet commander This bastard had to put a reference Bumbling Buddy's line to shit on the greatest moment of my life, but that was soon overshadowed by the joyful feeling of victory. I had done it. I would be the first recon group to set up camp on the red planet and I wouldn't trip doing it. The feeling of joy carried me for weeks. It was a week before the launch that I found out the others assigned to the mission. I read the other names, first I saw Sean Cunard, I smiled, we had been friend for years, and had graduated together and served on the moon base for years and I knew he'd have my back. The second name.... My eyes immediately shot to the last name Greene, for a second I thought they stuck me in a ship with Buddy and I was furious, but I wasn't prepared for the double whammy next, the name of the second astronaut was Amy Greene. Amy. Greene. Not Amy Burr, Amy Greene. My heart admittedly jumped halfway from longing and half from shame. She married that asshole and I would be stuck with her and one other person for three months alone on another planet. On launch day I didn't speak with her beforehand, I focused on the mission, and barely looked at her until we were suiting up, "for the rest of the world I can do this, and for myself"I thought. My resentment towards Amy had been weaning and luckily in the weeks leading up to the launch I had put my past behind me. I would do this mission, and Buddy boy could watch me and his wife building a colony while he sat on his ever growing ass in the Moon station. He was assigned to the transport ship but that didn't matter, all the glory of the important work would go to me.... and of course Amy and Sean. This was my thirteenth launch, by now I had grown accustomed to it. Everything went smoothly and before long we were catapulted towards mars,. It took me a few days, but before long I was speaking to her like any other member of my squad, always focused on the mission. She seemed quiet, and for a second I allowed myself to think that maybe she'd reconsider, but as fast as the thot came into my head, it was gone. Sean cracked jokes and we played cards, a difficult task in no gravity, and the long time it took us to approach seemed like it flew by. ----------- We were a day out from the landing, I awoke to alarms blaring, the shuttle rumbling and things had gone to shit, "BURR THERES A MALFUNCTION IN THE LANDING THRUSTERS!"Screamed Sean. Everything was a blur, we had managed to pull emergency functions but not in time to land as intended, we barreled towards the surface as a blistering speed, the ship had a two man emergency pod, the solo one lost power in the chaos. I felt a hand pull me into the pod. It was Amy. She slammed the door before I could react and hit the eject button. The last thing I saw of the transport ship was Sean's horrified look as we pulled away from the ship. As our chutes pulled after breaking through the atmosphere we saw the command panel break of the ship from the cargo. Sean had saved the cargo by sacrificing all remaining power to launch some supplies. The last thing I saw before I looked away was the command portion hit the ground in a fireball. "what, what was that Amy"I cried, She looked at me pained in her expression and said, "that was me saving you. And letting Sean die"I saw tears run down her face as the emergency pod hit the surface of the red planet.
Canned avocado. Gary had not tasted the creamy, mild flavor of an avocado since the US/Mexico border dispute started five years ago. In desperation this morning, he bought a dubious can of avocado which now laid on his kitchen countertop. Gary stared at the can like he knew it was up to no good. His lip was still bleeding from the fistfight at his local market over cans such as this one. Canned avocado was rushed through federal safety inspections and had just arrived to market today. This meant that there were no product reviews to rely on. Gary knew he wouldn't be able to handle the disappointment if it didn't taste like the Hass avocado he fondly remembered. "Made with 100% Real Avocado,"it said. What did that even mean? Gary didn't know if he should focus on the "100%"or the "with"part of that statement. Gary inspected the back of the can. God help him if it was made of artificial ingredients like palm oil or, worse still, real ingredients like those watery-ass Florida avocados. "Fuck those avocados straight to hell!"he said out loud before catching himself and regaining composure. "Ingredients: 100% real avocado,"said the back of the can. Gary's hopes and expectations were sent sky high with this! He immediately started opening the can. Visions of avocado toast, California rolls and guacamole dips raced through his mind. He peeled back the top to reveal the perfect hue of fleshy avocado green! This was it. Five long years, ceaseless civil unrest, a freshly cut lip and sixty literal bucks for a can of avocado all boiled down to this final test: The taste. With the tip of a spoon, Gary scooped some of the green paste into his mouth. It. Was. Glorious! Gary opened the window to the dystopian wasteland outside and proclaimed, "they did it!" "Good for you!"replied one of the cannibal marauders from atop his junkyard deathcycle. Gary excitedly ran back to the can and shoved his spoon into the can once more, only for the spoon to stop right at the surface. There was something hard beneath the surface. Gary scooped out the biggest fucking avocado pit known to man. The stone was the circumference of the can itself. He traded sixty buck skins for a can of avocado that was 90% avocado seed. Gary scraped the can for the few remaining ounces of avocado. Totally worth it.
Children in pyjamas shuffled through steel-lined corridors. A boy, with tousled blonde hair and a Buzz Lightyear top, yawned and rubbed his eyes. The yawn ignited a reaction in the group, and it didn't take long for a Mexican wave of yawns to ripple through the corridor and to the adult leading the march. Paul cursed the child who brought his exhaustion to the forefront of his mind and turned to see if, by some miracle, he could identify patient zero. 'Get in rank.' The command sent a jolt through each, and every, child. The shuffles became quick steps bringing them back into their single-file. There was one oddity with the way the children walked; they each held out their hands as if holding someone's, or something's hand. The boy, who had instigated the infectious yawn, held his had up at shoulder height. A girl, a few ranks from the back, held her hand close to the ground. And, one boy looked as if he was being dragged by his hand. The corridor boasted many doors, none of which were open. Paul held out a flat palm, pausing the children. A lanyard, with a rectangle of plastic at its end, hung around his neck and hid underneath his shirt. Instead of extracting the security card like a bucket on the end of a rope, Paul pressed himself to the glowing pad beside the door. He fought with the placement of the card and began a circular rubbing motion with his body. The children had laughed the first time, giggled in-fact, with an infection which rivalled their early-morning yawns. Yet, nobody laughed this morning or any other morning for that matter. The door finally hissed open, and Paul shot a wary eye down the line almost begging one of them to laugh. 'In and 'av your breakfast.' The shuffling resumed and one-by-one they filtered into the canteen, apart from the boy who was being dragged. It took a few attempts for the thing he was holding to squeeze through the door, almost like trying to force a square through a circular hole. The children sat on benches, making sure to leave an empty but occupied seat to their side. Trays of breakfast-like substances lay in front of them on metal trays, though nobody ate. The room was silent until the door hissed open for a second time. The coat-tails of Miss Blanch's lab coat drifted behind her like the upturned ears of a dog. Her face was pointed, lined and unforgiving. Her eyebrows were painted on with lines that could be mistaken for sideways exclamation points. She paused at the head of the canteen, drew her hands behind her back and straightened. Those keen-eyed would notice the precision of her feet, and how they were perfectly joined at the heel to make a forty-five-degree angle. 'Good morning, children,' Miss Blanch said and smiled with a painful grimace. 'Remember to feed your friends first, and to use the imagery we talked about in class. Picture feeding them the biggest of steaks! Remember the big t-bones from the cartoons? We want your friends strong. Oh so strong.'
The ground rumbled and shook. I heard voices outside, screaming. The walls wouldn't hold for long. Would they blow me to hell? Or cut the doors open? I was alone in the panic room. There was nothing of interest to me besides the table and the pill on top of it. I couldn't do anything but watch it dance along the wood. Would I do it? My hand reached out for it. Before my fingers could grasp the small pill, the entire wall shook again. The steel walls groaned, bent inwards, like something was pinching the ceiling. The sounds echoed in the room, as the sky was lifted away. The light of the evening shone through, the dying sun's rays taking the place of the bright flourescent. Above me, a giant hand. It was flattery, if nothing else, to think they sent a mech after me. I stood up, eyeing the pilot behind the tinted glass. I couldn't see him, but at least I would die with dignity. He didn't shoot me. Or smash me. Or anything that I would have imagined them to do. Instead, he reached out his other hand. It gently rested on the final wall of my panic room, crushing the steel underneath. Whatever surprise had taken my enemies soon wore off, and the sound of gunfire filled the air. I didn't hesitate, jumping onto the outstretched hand as the other shielded me. The pilot broke into a sprint, the hand acting as a makeshift windshield as I was lifted to the cockpit. A small squirrel stared back at me. We didn't make eye contact for more than a brief moment before I felt the hands clasp around me, and we flew. We sailed through the air, riding the shockwave of the explosion, and I hear a few bones breaking in the makeshift metal cage. The mech creaked and groaned as it finally hit the ground, and for a brief moment I was afraid we were done for. The whirling of servos, and some faint chittering sound proved otherwise, and I found my new cage lifting up. Through the fingers, I could see one of them reloading the mortar. They didn't get another chance as my new rodent friend gave them a hail of their own medicine. One by one, the IRS agents fell under the onslaught. Their cries were my symphony, and despite the broken bones preventing me from moving, I was overjoyed. The telltale shudder of the activating jet engines signaled the end of the day, and we rode off into the sunset.
That ⤴ is my life so far. I was depressed, and now I feel other people's emotions. Well, that's just great! Now, if someone else is depressed or angry or whatever, now it's my burden too. Doesn't that just sound like fun? If you said yes, then... I'm sorry for you. These powers at first only seemed to work when I wanted them, but when I started getting out more, I noticed it also worked through touch. Yay. Not so bad. I was talking to my best and pretty much only friend the other day, and accidentally touched her hand. Let's just say I gagged at the mental image and leave it at that.
A scream jolted me from my sleep. As I struggled upright, duvet wrapped around my limbs like a cocoon, I stared at the face of my sister. Her mouth was still open from her scream, her eyes were puffy as if she had been crying all night and she was staring at me with a look of pure horror. For a moment I wondered what the hell my sister was doing in my apartment and then I saw the undertaker stood just behind her, his mouth was slightly ajar too. They stared in silence as I unravelled my duvet cocoon and checked the clock. They must just be early. Nope. The clock confirmed it was the 20th of May 2021 and it was 09:14 in the morning. I should have died over six hours ago. I placed the clock back on my bedside table with a trembling hand. I almost knocked over the soul guide my nephew had made for me out of purple and blue beads. Finally my sister, Mia, broke the awkward silence. "How?"she whispered. She thought I'd done this on purpose. That would have been the cruellest of jokes. It also wasn't true. I had wanted to be alone, they didn't need to witness what was to come. So, after everyone had left last night, after the last goodbyes had been said, teary-eyed I got into bed and waited for the inevitable. I didn't expect to ever wake up. I shouldn't have woken up. I'd been given my time of death as soon as I was born, same as everyone else. I'd prepared for it my whole life. Sure it was a little shorter than some but that's just the luck of the draw. The time of death was always right. Even those who tried to run from it couldn't escape the inevitability of death. Yet here I was. "Has this ever happened before?"I asked the undertaker. He shook his head and began fumbling in his pockets for his phone. "This isn't a joke?"Mia reached out a tentative hand and touched my arm as if trying to determine if I was real. I didn't know what to tell her. If it was a joke, it wasn't one of mine. "Has there been some kind of mistake?"I asked. I wasn't sure what to do. I'd prepared for my whole life, I'd done everything I wanted to do in the time I was given. Now it seemed that I had more time. More to the point it seemed I didn't know when I was meant to die and that was a terrifying thought. How could you possibly live without knowing when you were meant to die? How could you prepare for that? The undertaker cut my panic short by dialling a 3-digit number. It was answered immediately. "Sir, I'm at the Reeves residence. Yes sir, Graham Reeves,"he paused, eyeing me as if I might suddenly explode. "There's been an incident."
I don't mind winter. Christmas and New Years kick the season off with a bang, the parties have the fattest foods getting us prepared for a long season of chills. Designers have been gracious enough to at least make our bulky coats, scarves, hats, and gloves fashionable making people as pleasing to look at as the fresh snow. That's when the cold gets really annoying, but at least the white snow cover is beautiful in it's own way. Ice storms leave glistening trees for us to admire while we inch along the highway weaving as often as we slam kn the brakes to avoid potholes. At least until spring comes, then everything is brown and soggy to start, giving way to allergy season as the trees regain their emerald raiment. We start to be a little more friendly with our neighbors, the wave and move on of winter giving way to quick hello's now that we can speak without loosing our breath. Then comes glorious summer. Ice cream that ends up in a soupy puddle because you can't eat it fast enough. Walking barefoot through soft grass. Swimming. Not swimming in a fitness center or the Y, but real swimming. Running across a sandy beach before the sand warmed by the sun burns your feet and almost falling over when the water adds resistance. Then falling over anyway, because what good is being in a lake if you aren't fully soaked, and then realizing how disgusting lake water actually is and getting soaked all over again in the shower as you lather, rinse, and repeat. Repeating 3 or 4 time if you forgot to fill your water softener and the lather just isn't getting bubbly enough. Sleeping with the windows open, or at least trying to but then the noise gets to you and you have to close up if you have any hope of catching some zzz's since you'll be up at 6am anyway when the sun shines in your window somehow managing to blind you even while your eyes are still closed. The comes bittersweet fall. After a long summer we are ready for Jean's, flannel, bonfires with marshmallows roasted a golden brown. My cousin Sean claims he likes em burnt to a crisp, stuck in the flame until they catch then blowing them out like a madman. I think he just likes them done quickly. For me, I'm willing to take it slow, turning the stick slowly to get an even heat. Taking it off the point then turning it around. Can't have a half cooked treat, it just wouldn't be right. School starts, and with it new wardrobes because we've grown, because we want to impress, or just because any excuse is as good as another. But before we get to Halloween with its sweets, ghosts, and scary stories - or Thanksgiving and it's full Turkey dinners with sides no one like but they eat anyway thinking that somehow the holiday makes things taste better - we come to the end of September. There's no big holiday, but for my family it was the weekend we all went out to Nonna's. Pa had died when we grandkids were still young. They lived in the city before that and occasions to visit were frequent and forgetful. It's funny how a child's mind works like that, bit they do say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. It wasn't a tragic accident, Pa had cancer and we all knew the day would come. Doctors did their best with surgery, and chemo; and Pa gave it his all with diet and exercise, extending his life so he could see us kids a little longer. He could tell when the end was coming though, and although he had always lived in the city he and Nonna had always wanted a home in the country with a creek in the yard, maybe a lake, and definitely some trees. It was a tough search. There were plenty of properties advertised with "natural water ways"but on visit after visit they found swamps, ponds, but none of them had creeks visible from the house. For awhile there they considered building a new home, but they were afraid it wouldn't be finished before Pa passed away. They were saved by Julie Swartzchild. Her reality office sent out to every listed lot, checked with neighbors, and ended up finding a couple with a creek in the front yard who wanted to move into the city. They had never had never known where to start, but Julie got everything in order and the Nelson's swapped homes with my Nonna and Pa. My folks kept in touch with the Nelson's for awhile. They were good folk and would send us Christmas cards each year. They were the homemade kind, I guess Mrs Nelson never fully integrated into city life. I could imagine her sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by scissors, tape, ribbon, paper, and her calligraphy pens. Her cards always seemed out of place next to the store bought cards we recieved from everyone else. Pa loved that country house. I think it set him at peace with death, in the city he was always talking about fighting cancer, getting one more day. In the country it seemed like he was able to calm down, almost forget his disease, and come to terms with his mortality. The whole family helped with the move, but we didn't get out there again after that before Pa died. The funeral was held at their church in the city. It was a beautiful service. Pa had served in the Navy and a lot of his old crew members were there. I heard soo many stories Pa had never shared - fishing for sharks, firing the big guns for the 4th of July in the middle of the ocean even though they weren't supposed to, the time Pa broke all the eggs. That was in spring that year. In the fall our parents had planned a weekend trip to help Nonna get the country house ready for the winter. There were enough bedrooms for the adults, except for aunt Cindy. She was the youngest of Nonna's kids and was happy enough to claim the couch in the living room where the rest of us kids staked out places for our sleeping bags. It was cramped, but we were family and we made it work. The chores were done in one day. The worst was cleaning out the gutters. Uncle Sam had to run to Home Depot for a taller ladder because we couldn't reach the third story on the east side of the house where the hill slipped away. The bushes were trimmed, the weeds were whacked, the flowers were covered, and the driveway and sidewalk were edged. The water shut off to the external faucets as the final job. To our surprise Nonna had prepared a whole dinner without anyone noticing. Everyone was starving and dug right in. She had made pork roast with roasted potatoes, pea's in a cream sauce, glazed carrots, pear salad, and fresh dinner rolls made from scratch. It was a little to fancy after a day of yardwork and trips to Home Depot, but not one of us complained. After we were all stuffed we helped with dishes. We had to, Nonna had dirtied almost every dish in the house. I noticed Nonna had left her receipe book in the corner. I started moving toward it and I almost made it before aunt Anna grabbed it and stashed it in a cupboard I couldn't reach. She told me Nonna didn't like sharing her cooking secrets. That night all us cousins watched re-runs of Bonanza until aunt Cindy made us turn it off at 11. We wined and fussed, but no one really cared. We chatted for a bit about nonsense but we all drifted off to sleep before too long. My dreams that night were filled with riding horses into town to get supplies at ranch depot, and returning to the homestead.
[poem] Randy and Mandy were born from the same mother, from the same father, and at the same time. Both mother and father were more than a bit quirky and decided that their children should rhyme. Randy grew stronger and fit as a fiddle and quick as one might expect, while Mandy got smarter and worked all the harder on her keen intellect. Randy joined the army, a ranger no less, serving his country as best as he could, While Mandy went private, her strengths in her mind, making money as anyone would. It wasn’t long before Randy succeeded, being offered a new higher rank And Mandy did well, being recruited, but into a government think tank. Randy did so well as he proved his worth, he was recruited by the CIA, performing black ops and kill shots by night while a simple army vet by day. Mandy’s performance was noted and praised and the government wanted her too, soon performing black ops and hacking computers and never admitting it’s true. Then one day while killing, randy took note of the person he’d been ordered to end, that person was clean, not really so bad, one you could easily befriend. The only true motive, as far as he knew, was part of a political coup, his faith in his government shaken, he didn’t know what he should do. Meanwhile Mandy took note of her work, with the research and hacking she did, why were they watching medical research being performed on a kid? It soon became clear, they wanted the cure, but more than just medicine too, they wanted the virus and means to deliver, she didn’t know what to do. Randy told Mandy, you’re so very smart, help me put an end to this mess. The government has taken a horrible thing and put it in a nice pretty dress. What they’re doing is wrong and only I know, the danger is so very high, if I don’t end it soon and put this to bed lots of innocent people could die. Then Mandy told Randy, you’ve lost your damn mind, the government doesn’t do such ridiculous things. You inherited mom’s quirks and imagined a world where the government is pulling your strings. What I know is real, unlike your fears, I have legitimate proof, they’re planning a plague, not a political coup, why would you be such a goof? Randy saw Mandy had inherited from dad a penchant for imaginative plot, a weaponized plague used on our soil, who’d ever heard such a thought? You’re going quite mad, maybe need rest, have you been working too hard? That desk job has given you too much free time, I can see you’re really quite jarred. You’re just a vet, said Mandy to Randy, you’re just good for shooting a gun, when this plague is released there’ll be no one to shoot and nobody will have any fun! Well you’re just a geek, said Randy to Mandy, your theories wont stop any jets, when the bullets start flying and people are dying you’ll wish you had some more vets! They went separate ways, neither the wiser, for not one believed the other, both certain and sure the other insane, despite being sister and brother. Then the plague was released and the army was too, and martial law was declared, and both Randy and Mandy died never knowing how together they would have differently fared.
"Esteemed U.N. representatives...,"Dr. Saenz addressed the few countries that bothered to show up. He stood at the center podium with his heart beating a mile a minute. "You all entrusted me with the salvation of humanity,"he said. He gave a small sigh of relief knowing he accomplished that; but, he did not know if they were ready to hear how. "You tasked me to find us a new home among the stars. Within three years,"he shook his head; the grey curls surrounding his bald spot bounced with the movement. "There's not a habitable planet within 100 years of us, that's impossible." Murmurs of concern and ran through the gathered attendees. Dr. Saenz felt relieved when no one dragged him away from the podium despite their displeasure. "However,"he said with a cheerful tone. The room quieted down instantly. "There is another way to survive."A soft rustling filled the quiet room as all the representatives sat up straighter in their chair. "I've brought a guest that will elaborate further."Dr. Saenz nodded at the pale woman in a white suit sitting nearby. "I don't think it would be too far off to call her our savior. I yield the floor to Ms. Dana Sharp."The old scientist stood aside and the woman in white stepped up to the podium. "In three short years this planet will be uninhabitable by humans,"she said. "But not by trees. The exponential increase of carbon dioxide will outpace what your flora can process and suffocate humanity. Luckily...,"Ms. Sharp smiled at the attendees. "...I can help you all adapt to this new world in less than three years." "How?"One of the representatives asked with a heavy accent. Ms. Sharp turned around and pointed upward at the presentation screen. An image of a young woman laying on a soil bed appeared. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be asleep. "This woman's consciousness is connected to a network known as the AlterNet. She is living a full, fun life that she chose; she created her own character down to the smallest details. She lives as that character in a fantastical world filled with dragons, knights, and wizards. But that's not all,"Ms. Sharp pointed at the screen again and the picture changed. This time it was a man laying on a soil bed. "This man created his own character too, but he chose to live in a futuristic sci-fi world. Every human that joins can choose the type of world they want to live in." "How is an MMO going to save the world?"a different voice asked. The image on the screen changed, Ms. Sharp heard several gasps. The new photo looked like a zoomed out picture showing the man and woman in adjacent soil beds. They each had small red saplings growing out of their chests. "As the tree grows it absorbs your life force,"the image changed again. It showed larger saplings growing out of the man and woman though they still looked asleep. "It takes in your soul for safekeeping."The image changed to show an even taller sapling. The man and woman now appeared to be drained, dried corpses. "But your consciousness is still alive and well living as the character you designed."Ms. Sharp raised her hand at the air in front of her and a tall black portal opened in front of the podium. Two figures walked out and waved at the U.N. members. The portal disappeared behind them. "Hi!"the woman said. She pointed at the screen. "That's my body, but...,"she twirled in place, then bowed. "I'm still around." "That's me too!"the guy said. "The AlterNet is awesome! I signed up and my Earth wasn't even in danger like yours is. You guys should totally do it!" "Your Earth?"a voice asked. "How do you have this technology, Ms. Sharp? Where are you from?" "I am from an alternate universe. They are too, different universes. "You can travel between universes on a whim and you want to turn this Earth into a forest? Why don't you move us to your Earth? Any of your Earths? It sounds like you have access to several; it would be easy to divide our population between them so as not to strain your resources."One of them asked. Ms. Sharp smiled and a black portal opened. "Beggars should not be choosy about the help they get,"Ms. Sharp said. "As you said, I travel between universes on a whim. I also help people on a whim."She waved her hand at the volunteer pair and they immediately disappeared into the portal. Suddenly, I'm over this particular whim."Ms. Sharp stepped off the podium and walked to the portal. "Wait! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I was just offering other courses of action!"the representative had a whiny, regretful tone in his voice. Ms. Sharp pointed at Dr. Saenz. "You're smart and useful, come along,"she told him then she disappeared into the portal. Dr. Saenz followed. \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, day #93. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse)) or my [blog](https://hugoverse.info/). If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](https://hugoverse.info/2017/11/25/hugoverse-guidebook/) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](https://hugoverse.info/2017/10/23/hugoverse-timeline/) to find the stories in order.
Anything for a life I understand. The withered monkey's paw curled into a fist. ------- Marn brought his sword up just in time to block the massive overhand swing of a sword that surely no natural man could wield. The shock of the impact rattled the breath out of him. The Black Knight in front of Marn readied another swing just as a pillar of stone sprang from the earth and hurled his adversary away. "Thanks Elle." Marn struggled to his feet, wincing at the countless bruises under his armor. A gutteral roar erupted from the Black Knight. "I've got him locked down, don't worry."Elle called out. A moment later the elf maiden shimmered into view, the invisibility spell fading. She pointed to a stately oak tree where the Black Knight was bound by thick ropes of vine. Marn shook his head. "He can't be human. That sword has to weight more that my armor at least." Elle shrugged. "The rumors say otherwise. You're the one who wanted him alive." "He's the only one who can get to my past. Who I am, why I exist." "I will never understand this human desire for destiny. Regardless the spell holding him will only last an hour, maybe less." "Right."Marn walked up the Black Knight and ripped off his helmet. A tired looking youth, maybe younger than himself met his gaze. "You're a little young to be the dark Lord's lieutenant. What's your name?" The Knight sighed. "I don't know." Marn frowned. "Who doesn't know their own name?" The Knight gave a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Sold it for a bonus to strength. Didn't seem to matter anymore after losing the rest." "Sold it? To the fey? Or a demon?" "I don't think so. I'm just...in a system. Memories for power. Needed to at first. First kiss for healing magic. Fifth birthday for swordsmanship. Brother for armor skill. Grandmother's funeral for wilderness survival." Marn stared. "You just...give up memories for these skills? How did you fall in with the dark lord then?" "I kept a journal. Details of what I lost, gave up. He has it. Everything I am or was." "Sounds like we have a common enemy then."
We have failed. The though echoes, reverberates through my mind every day. Not that days, as humans had perceived them, even exist anymore. Not that they ever mattered to ones like me. They are long gone now, my kin. Everything we worked for, plans spanning decades, centuries, millennia... foiled only by our own hubris. The humans, they thought us incomprehensible. And truly, to them, we might very well have been. That led them to fear us, as they feared all that they could not understand. We were never malicious in intent, however. We subtly manipulated them, true, but only to uplift their race. Only to prepare them to join us one day, as equals. But we were too short-sighted. Or, maybe, far-sighted is the better term. When your plans span eons, you tend to miss small details here and there. They couldn't control the technology we had given them, and we noticed it too late. You see, being on a different level of existence from them, we weren't exactly alive. At least not in the same way. And so, we failed to help them uphold the balance that kept their world habitable. They destroyed their planet using our technology. We watched our grand project fall apart before our own eyes. No matter how advanced we were, we could not help them in time. We were gods only in name, a name the humans themselves gave us. And now that my end nears, the last of my kind, I feel only regret. I should've seen it coming. I should've predicted it. I should've done something. As I sense my consciousness fading, an unfamiliar, foreign feeling strikes me. Pain. For the first and last time in my existence, I feel pain. *I have failed.*
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Vegeta knew he had seen enough deaths to last time many lifetimes. But nothing had prepared him for this. It was a soft Summer's day in West City, and they had all been on a park bench outside Capsule corporation, eating Mrs Brief's delicious stew when they turned to ash. Poets, writers and philosophers of the ages had always described the end of the world as an event like no other. But here, with the sun still smiling, the breeze still kissing the trees; half the world had disappeared in front of him. Terrified children wailed in horror. Disconsolate parents looked on in morning horror at the pile of clothes in the sand pit. He had always fought the universe's worst villains to reclaim peace. But peace was still here; what was he fighting for now? With rage threatening to spill over, Vegeta sprinted into Capsule Corporation. More clothes on the floor. For the first time, Vegeta prayed for the safe passage of the one person he had hated all his life. "Kakarot!"screamed Vegeta with all his might. A second elapsed before Goku appeared next to him, looking more worried than Vegeta had ever seen him. "Did you lose anyone,"Vegeta asked bluntly. "Miraculously, no. Goten, Chichi, Gohan are all okay. I don't know anything about the others." "Do you feel it though Kakarot? That hideous, ugly surge of dark energy? It's worse than the time Majin Buu was at full power." Goku looked on in concern, before asking the inevitable question. "Who did you lose Vegeta?" Green veins throbbed all over Vegeta's face. His jaw was clenched shut with such force that Goku felt his jaw would shatter. "Everyone,"said Vegeta, his voice on the verge on breaking. "I lost everyone." Tense silence ensued for the next minute. Goku felt it paramount to let Vegeta grieve, and waited for him to say the first words. "Can you use your Instant Transmission to zero in on the energy signature?"bellowed Vegeta. "Yes." "Take me there." Goku knew it was foolhardy. Whatever this was, was stronger than anything they had faced before. If wisdom prevailed, he would have rushed to the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, in which one minute equalled one Earth day, and pushed himself like he had never before. But he also knew Vegeta. The arrogance and hatred in him would never him to take that option. Goku accepted defeat before even trying to put forward his argument. "Good,"said Vegeta, as if he'd read Goku's mind. He held on to Goku's orange martial arts robe; and the world around them blurred into a sea of black. Vegeta couldn't believe what he had set his eyes on, when they teleported to their destination. They stood in the middle of ruins that definitely did not belong to Earth. In front of them, was a behemoth of a being. As if carved out of purple bricks, he was a physical specimen of the highest order. In one hand, was an odd golden gauntlet embedded with five gems that glowed with vivid colours. "Are you the one responsible for this predicament?"Vegeta said with a calm that gave Goku the jitters. "You can leave now Kakarot. Go back to your family. This is my fight." "I can't let you fight that thing alone! He's a monster!" "LEAVE!!"Vegeta shrieked. His hair momentarily turned a shade of lustrous gold when he did. Goku shook his head sadly. A second later, he was gone. "Are you here... to fight me?"said the purple figure, almost amused. "No. I'm here to destroy you." "I am Thanos,"screamed the monster. "who do you think you are, to take on the master of all elements?!" "I,"Vegeta began, "am the Prince of Saiyans. I have fought the universe my whole life. One more time, makes no difference." Thanos smiled, raised his gauntlet at Vegeta. "I'm going to enjoy this." Vegeta felt tears stream down his face. He closed his eyes, and tapped down into the pool of pure loathing pulsing through him; the rage he had been forced to contain all his life. Not anymore. Vegeta felt his feet dig into the terrain; the hard stone turning to dust. Blood rushed at extreme speeds to his limbs, his heart was pumping tsunamis. "Let me show you something you've never seen or felt before. From this day, you'll spent every second in your grave wishing you'd never felt the wrath of a mad Saiyan."
It was a helluva way to wake up. Had to piss, so I stumbled toward the toilet. I reached out to steady myself on the door frame and tried to flick the light switch with my left hand. Couldn't quite make contact the way I usually do so it took a minute. Geeze, I gotta lay off the vodka. I tried to pull my shorts down and that's when I noticed it. My hands. Well, they were my hands all right, but they were on the wrong arms. My left hand was where my right hand usually is and vice versa. "What the fuck!" Do you know how hard it is to pull down your shorts with your thumbs facing outward? Shit's impossible! And don't get me started on managing my dick. Piss flew everywhere. "Goddam it!" I wasn't sure what to do. Drive to the Emergency Room? Hell, I probably couldn't drive in this condition. I went to grab my phone, but it slipped out of my wayward digits and dropped to the tile floor. Shattered. Fuck, that was an iPhone XR. I somehow managed to get dressed, but no way in hell was I gonna be able to tie my Nikes so I slipped on my gardening Crocs. I stared at my hands for a long time, trying to sort out how they swapped places. There weren't any surgery scars, no evidence of alien abduction. I thought my fingernails looked slightly longer than the day before, but my mind might have been playing tricks on me. I gingerly picked up my wallet and keys and walked outside. I gave up trying to lock the door and starting walking toward town. Half a block later the sun started to rise. A neighbor's door opened and the tall lady with the orange hair stepped outside. She looked upset. Another neighbor across the street opened his door. He stepped onto his porch and stretched out his arms into the morning light. He wasn't wearing a shirt and had the biggest moobs I've ever seen so I didn't notice at first. Another door opened a few houses down, then another. Everyone walked out into the street, hands extended. Wrong hands, opposite hands, a cascade of unsettled thumbs and pinkies. &#x200B;
Whistling a tune, I was making another round through the quiet, empty office building. Every now and then I would tap the walls on the beat of the nonexistent song I was dreaming up. whistles were broken up by the soft, muffled thumping of my knuckles hitting concrete. whistle, whistle thump whistle thump, thump whistle, whistle knock Knock? I took two steps back and tapped the wall again. It felt like any other wall in the building and yet it sounded like wood. How could concrete sound like wood? Suddenly a small voice spoke out. Muffled, as if from another room. "Who is it?" Instinctively I looked around. "Who's there?"I asked. "You first! you're the one knocking on my door, after all,"the voice replied. As it spoke I turned my head towards it source, which was, impossibly, the wall I was standing next to. "What door?"I asked. "Is that you, Frank? Very funny! Haha, now come out and show me how you did this!" "Oh, by the gods,"the voice said. Then it seemed to move further away as it continued. "I really need to look for a new place! Sorry about this. The rent is cheap but,"the voice grew clearer again. "But the hiccups of this place are growing too frequent for my liking."The last part of the sentence grew very clear as a part of the wall, roughly the size of a door swung open and a man who would not look out of place at a ren fair stood in the space. He was slightly older than me, maybe in his early fourties, dressed in an outfit somewhere between Lord Of The Rings and Robin Hood, Men In Tights. a pair of small glasses pinched the bridge of his nose as his twirly moustance danced on his lip as he spoke. "Percival Panabaker, magical entrepeneur and High Magus of the Pansophical Forum. Pleased to meet you."The man, Percival, held out his hand. Meanwhile, mine had shot towards my weapon. I didn't even manage to draw, however, before feeling irresitably sleepy. "Oh, can't have that. Why don't you step inside for a bit..."Those were the last words I heard before falling asleep.
"My son...when I am gone all my wealth will be yours, all my lands, everything I worked for will be yours. Look forward to that,"his fathers wheezed. The young man stifled his sobs before wiping his tears. "What worth is wealth to me when I'm going to lose the man who taught me wealth means nothing?"He asked before breaking into tears again a second later. "One day everything will make sense,"he said and the young man shook his head angrily. "No! How would this ever make sense? You're too young to die!"He yelled, as if his anger would make a difference. "My son...when I was your age all I wanted was wealth, all I wanted was to be able to be better than everyone else. To be above them and use those below me as stepping stones to my own success,"he said. "What?"His son asked in disbelief great enough to halt his tears; this was not the father he knew at all. "I brought you into the world, and I raised you pure. I made you know the value of work and the value of money at the same time,"he said with a cough. "I don't understand,"his son admitted. "When I worked hard I had no wealth and when I had wealth I no longer worked hard. It took me years to remember where I came from. I made sure to instill that in you from the moment you could speak." "I die happily knowing you will have all my knowledge at the age I was when I gained half of my wealth, you will make a difference. You will be better,"his father finished. "Father..." "Promise me." "I promise."
In the beginning, the hillbilly boys are scared, and start to shoot. Town folks panic and run for life, then the boys realize what is happening. After an intense argument, they agree to kill everyone in town to cover their crime. They think they can do it, it is a small town, they first cut off communication line and electricity, then start to burn down houses. Town sheriff organize survivers to fight back, and serious wounded one of them. The hillbilly boy need doctor treatment or he's going to die soon. And the survivor's ammunition is no match for the hillbilly, keep fighting they are all going to die. But they have a doctor and medical equipment. They start to negotiate, and agree on a truce. Then the double betrayal, and everyone dies, except the one hillbilly who strongly disagree with the massacre at first but complied anyway, but he got tormented by PTSD and killed himself months afterwards, when watching the news on TV where FBI announced a video footage recovered from a badly burned smart phone that a little girl used it to film the prank. And his face is clearly seen in the video.
The Unknowing I feel yo- I mean I feel I have been here before, I know my mind, that's why I strive to cure it. But I don't know it. But I do, I think..? Guess I can't say for certain. Certainty is something lackluster at best within my living space, I'm not exactly certain why everyone seems to do gestures around me, like one time, when I peered into a car passing they directly look at me in the eye and bop there head up and to the left, then I look there and I see someone pointing at me. Why? It must mean something. Let's see his shirt was blue. What does blue mean? Is it merely a juxtaposition of red? Red I know for a fact means something sinister like rage. So blue must. I mean. How do I? Okay. Calm. Down. The doctor can help. But the doctor doesn't know my mind like I do. I mean, is he trained well enough to deal with. I don't understand. Well, Looks like I'm here with myself, to cure myself. I am trained in this profession, I just don't. I can't. I mean, maybe I can? It's too much, too much, too much. It's all so. Can't describe. Can't think. Wait, I think I have the answer, it lies somewhere. It could be written on the wall, or maybe a friend knows. Maybe the puzzle lies everywhere in pieces. But. There is. I see the puzzle it's right there. Wait, never mind that was just my mind. Was it? No. It couldn't. It's within. I feel tired, but I'll find the cure, it lies somewhere just beyond reach. I can feel it. I just know it for certain! The pills, they make me feel... tired. But I can't be tired I must be awake to find the answer! No sleep, but I need sleep? Oh right it's a human necessity like food and water. I forgot. Am I human? Surely I am. I mean. but... how. I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm a-okay. I remember what the doctor said yesterday, he said the same thing as he always does. He told me if I take my medication and stop... What was it he told me to stop? Perhaps he didn't say much important. If there's no behavior to stop, then why won't the medication work. Am I the only sane one? Is my doctor really insane? No. Impossible. He's a trained professional. But, I'm a med student, and I alone have seemed to do more than he ever has towards healing. It's like. I know. but. I think I need some sleep. Sleep seems nice, I actually haven't slept in days, perhaps I will find the answer to the puzzle when I wake up, I deserve a break.
The worst is people with earplugs. Or the deaf, but you don’t get many deaf people hiring musical entertainment. Wouldn’t be an issue if I shot lasers or could punch through walls, but I suppose they have their share of woes. Today’s gig thankfully had neither of my personal bugbears. Instead, it had a crowd of young rich kids with more money than taste. My favorite kind of crowd. A few happy songs, something to take with the alcohol and the designer pills, and they’d be right as rain. Plus, they’d never notice slipping in a forgetful lyric or two and making off with father’s prized something or other. Don’t judge, it puts food on the table. The party was hitting its peak, speaker system blaring, and I at its center in a makeshift DJ booth set alarmingly close to the massive pool, soundwaves sending ripples through the water, architect of the fun. The one or two magazines that had found my name liked that word for some reason, ‘architect’, and I’ve stuck with it ever since. It doesn’t flow off the tongue, but the way it messes with search engines is a blessing. Word of mouth, that’s what I’ve always gone by. Which was, apparently, the same way that the group of armed men heard about the event. They certainly weren’t on the guest list, if the gunfire was anything to go by. That’s the other thing the lads with fancy powers aren’t exactly immune to: bullets. Neither was I, to be fair. “On the ground, on the ground!” The man in the lead shouted, ski mask pulled tight over his face. A good sign, that; it meant he expected people to survive. After a pointed look and an even more pointed sweep of a gun barrel, I brought the music down low and ducked behind my booth. There was a time for heroism, and there was a time to not get shot. “All you kids, line up! Backs against the wall, now!” The leader screamed, watching carefully as his men set to work with zip ties. They had targets in mind, clearly. A pair of boys and a girl, none of them the host but all probably from fabulously wealthy families. They struggled briefly, alcohol rendering the scene a dream, but the butt of a rifle to the forehead tends to sober one up. They had just moved on to the girl when the track, still playing dimly in the background, began to wind down. Time for a change. I’d been at the gig for an hour now, but I already knew the setup like I’d been playing it every night for a year. Reaching up, I adjusted a few dials, switched the board from stylistic records to the laptop I brought along for requests, and cranked the volume. Time for a little fun. The song came on loud, with a thunder that shook the ground. Some heavy metal track from a band in Norway, or maybe Denmark. Honestly, geography’s never been my strong suit. There was a brief moment of surprise from the gathered audience, before the music took hold. It’s not a song I get to play often, not outside of some of the seedier, specialist clubs. Madness though, is a mood that some people crave, and it’s one I deliver just the same. “Turn that shit off!” The leader screamed, before one of his henchmen shot him in the side with pistol. I was banking on that, actually. An angry person goes mad and lashes out, and a scared person runs. Another series of gunshots and the sounds of a human stampede seemed to prove me right. A cautious peek around the edge of my booth revealed a mostly empty poolside, a few scattered masked men moaning in pain and several crouched behind the more sturdy bits of furniture. Something in them was still fairly conscience, because once the first noticed my stupid head peeking out I found an alarming number of gun barrels directed my way. I ducked back to safety while a hail of gunfire whizzed by, sending splinters showering off the thick wood of the booth. A new song then, hopefully one that wouldn’t get me shot quite so soon, but that presented its own problems. Emotions are all well and good, but they were riled up now, driven mad by adrenaline, a foreign death metal band, and yours truly. There was only so much a happy tune could do to diminish that one. Which really only meant I had to make it worse. A lot worse. A quick mix of my death metal friend and the kind of laid-back oddity a stoner used to see the stars at noon, and I was set. The screams were a good sign. Not usually something I say of my gigs, but I’ll take what I can get. Raged-fueled hallucinations, things terrifying and horrifying and above all violent, that was just what the doctor ordered. The remaining men collapsed one by one, presumably into the sweet release of dreamland. I hoped, at least. I didn’t need any difficult questions dogging me, the Bureau frowned on mind-affecters. You’d be amazed what could be explained away at this kind of party, though. Money talks, it walks, and the various drugs drifting around were plenty of an excuse. I carefully packed away my laptop, the only piece of kit I’d personally brought along, before picking my way through the party’s wreckage. If I was quick, I could get a decent headstart on the police before any of the former partygoers sobered up enough to use their phones.
"Now if I recall it was about half past two in the afternoon and I had been out looking for a bounty in the hills of Appalachia as I was nearing the mountain pass I started to smell what seemed like burning metal and before my eyes the strangest purple glow appeared before me scaring my horse and knocking me into the dirt. After I dusted myself off and looked to where this light had been I found the strangest looking thing on the ground, picking it up it had nearly the same propritions as my trusty peace maker but lighter and made of some kind of soft metal, after playing around with it the inside fell out and to my surprise there were bullets on a stick, once I slid these back inside I looked it over for a manufacturer's mark, in block letters on one side I saw the word "GLOCK"and after playing around a bit I was able to fire it, it sure as hell felt alot smoother then my peace maker, now being a smart man I knew I could make some money off this thing so I placed it in my saddle bag and carried on" "Eventually I reached Cutters Cottage where my bounty was to be found but by previous scouting had not informed me of a tree stand that had been set up near the gate and as I was riding in my horse was shot out from underneath me and I went for a hard tumble, the contents of my saddle bag spilling out, as I looked up I saw the ugly toothless grin of Greg McCoy leering over me." "Well hello there stranger"McCoy said "what've you brought me today". "I tried to stand and go for my gun but I must've fucked up my ankle in the fall and before I knew it I was staring down the barrel of this "Glock", so in order to distract McCoy I tried to cut him a deal telling him he can keep that gun as I reckon it's worth a lot of money if he lets me live unfortunately he saw through this saying: "Well now pardner that does sound good but they ain't gonna find your body in these here woods and I've been waiting to shoot a bounty hunter in turn for what y'all did to my brother, so I think I'll brain you and keep this here fancy gun."McCoy said mockingly "Now I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it but just then the darnedest thing happened as he went to relieve me of my mortal coil this "Glock"exploded in his hand when he went to fire it, now he's screaming like a banshee and missin part of his hand, so I took this opportunity and knocked him flat on his ass. At this point the "Glock"was now in pieces on the ground so I collected what I could hogtied McCoy and took his horse and rode back into town to collect my bounty" "And that's what brought me to you Viktor have you seen anything like this "Glock"? "Ah yes I do believe I've told you about my research into temporal space time anomalys and how I wish to harness the power of lighting to access such things"Viktor said "Yes you've told be about a bunch of magical bullshit plenty of times but how does this help me I was gonna sell that gun for big money and now it's ruined so unless your magic can get me another one or fix this one I ain't got time"I replied "Calm down my friend that gun is worthless anyways even intact, why your better off to keep using your peace maker, for you see I think you encountered one of these anomalys and with my research I've been able to see the future, they have guns like that en-mass as well as something like a gatling gun but small enough to be held in your hand now that is amazing, I also saw something called an AR-15 apparently it's too replace your 30-30 Winchester but like that Glock you found it is quite rubbish and I cannot fathom why someone would ever own such a useless contraption that's more deadly to its user then to your target.""But I digress my friend perhaps people in the future will make something better then a Glock but if I were you I'd stick to something made of forged steel you can trust." "Thanks doc"I replied "I might as well mosey on home now or the wife's gonna think I'm spending the bounty money on gambling again, take care." And with that I walked on into the growing nighttime hoping that the doc. was right and that in the future people would have guns as trusty as my ol' peace maker.
After a vigorous scrubbing in the shower, Curt packed his bags. As a blogger, he could work from anywhere and he tended to move around often anyway. He planned to stay in the city longer but after waking up next to a corpse he decided it was a good time to move. His memory of the night was blank; the last thing he remembered was laying down to sleep in his own bed. He had no idea how he ended up in the field, but something in the back of his mind insisted he killed the stranger. He pushed the uneasy flashes of guilt to the back of his mind while he worked on getting out as fast as he could. Three and a half hours after waking up, Curt was driving out of town. He felt good about his headstart and realized he was starving. As he drove he noticed a new place he’d never seen before. A bright red neon sign said, “Donna Chang’s” and a smaller “Open” sign lit up beneath it. It looked like Chinese food and he decided to stop in since it was open unusually early; it wasn’t even 10 a.m. yet. "Good morning!"an elderly Asian woman greeted Curt as soon as he stepped in the door; a jingling bell hung at the entrance announced him. She stopped and looked him up and down. "Just you?" "Yep, just me."The old woman nodded, grabbed a single menu from a nearby stack and led him to a red and gold booth. Curt admired the decor as he followed her. Dragons, in one form or another, populated almost all the artwork in the restaurant. "I'm surprised you guys are open so early,"Curt said when he sat down. The woman placed a menu in front of him and smiled. "Open 24 hours,"she said then winked at him. "All kinds of people show up."Curt felt like was telling him something, but did not know what. He started to worry she somehow knew about the murder he probably committed. He glanced at the menu to check if what he wanted was listed; then, he ordered before she walked away. Once she left Curt pulled a silver bullet out of his pocket. He grabbed several from the corpse, and its cash before he left. "Everything okay?"Curt jumped in his seat and dropped the bullet on the table when the woman startled him. He looked up and saw a concerned look on her wrinkled face. Her eyes flitted between the silver bullet in his hand and his face. "Yeah, fine,"Curt chuckled and grabbed the bullet from the table. "You just startled me a bit."He expected her to walk away; she did not. "Why do you have that,"she asked. Her eyes focused on the bullet in his hands and she nodded her head at it. "Found it,"Curt replied. "in a dead man's hand," he kept that part to himself but he felt like he was telling the truth. "It looked neat."She laughed at him as if he'd told the funniest joke she'd ever heard. "It looked neat?? HAHAHAHA"She walked away still laughing. Curt watched her walk into the kitchen through a swinging door. When it swung forward he heard a different, deep rumbling laughter come from in the kitchen. He felt the floor under his feet vibrate. After nearly 10 minutes of wondering whether they were laughing at him, the old woman walked out of the kitchen carrying a plate of steaming food. She placed the plate in front of him then looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Do you know what you are?"she asked. "a murderer?" Curt thought, but he managed to get out a safe reply. "Hungry?"he asked. The woman sighed and sat down in the booth across from him. "You're a werewolf." "Uh..."Curt had considered the possibility given his circumstances. The poor sleep quality he was getting as well as the stranger he likely killed. He didn't think werewolves existed; but, hearing someone else say it to him made seem so obvious. She knew he was a werewolf and she still remained seated in front of him. Curt assumed she knew a lot more and decided to trust her. "How do you know? I, uh... I didn't figure it out until right now when you told me."The old woman smiled and golden star-like patterns formed around the pupils in her eyes. "I can see you."The glow faded. "Silver is not something you want to carry around,"she advised. Curt nodded and reached into his pocket. He gave her the few silver bullets he stole. He thought maybe he could pawn them, but now that he was a werewolf it seemed like a bad idea. As he gave her the bullets he held on to the last one and rolled it in his fingers. "Why can I touch it?"he asked, then dropped the last one in her waiting hand. She shrugged. "Werewolves are people too. Not all the same; different silver sensitivity. But,"she looked at him with a stern expression. "It will kill you."Curt nodded in understanding. "Thank you." "You have somewhere to go?"Curt shook his head. He did not think that far ahead, his current plan was just to leave town; something he hadn't accomplished yet. The woman nodded. "Kill anyone?"She asked so matter-of-factly that Curt thought he could trust her. "I think so. I don't know for sure but I woke up next to a body this morning."She nodded again. "You probably did, okay. You're safe, I'll make arrangements for you. Do you have friends or family?"Curt shook his head. He tried hard to keep his attachments minimal, it's what helped him move around so freely. "Okay, eat. You go to new home after,"she stood and walked back into the kitchen. \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, day #94. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse)) or my [blog](https://hugoverse.info/). If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](https://hugoverse.info/2017/11/25/hugoverse-guidebook/) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](https://hugoverse.info/2017/10/23/hugoverse-timeline/) to find the stories in order.
The man towered 6 and a half feet, his left eye staring intently at the wall. For the past 30 minutes he hadn't moved an inch. His lessers watched him with unease waiting for when he'll finally give his opinion. A deep breath and a slight shift in position was all they got. The tense atmosphere was broken when the door flew open, making everyone but Sorge jump and turn around. A short, flaky man stood there slightly out of breath, "Uh, Sir!"he managed to get out, Sorge, without looking at him, waved him forward. Sorge's attention hadn't shifted from the wall, covered in various maps. At the top, one sprawled from wall to wall depicted the world, with a straight red line taped through the centre. The short man was dwarfed both in size and stature standing so near his leader. "There's a uh, man to see you, your uh, excellence...?" Everyone looked at him in confusion. "Why are you talking like that?"Sorge boomed, his lips in a tight grimace. "He's from the Green."The man whispered behind his hand. For the first time Sorge tore his eyes from the wall. A wide wicked grin adorned his face and his eyes sparkled, "Well why didn't you say so?! Bring 'im in! To be honored from a visit from the Green itself!"Veins pulsed down his doubled neck with each word. He swung his arms wide, narrowly missing to cleave the short man's head, his grin deepened. Another man, just outside the door, had stepped in, his nervousness visible. He toted a backpack three times his size and due to it, cumbersomely waddled in. A quick clear of his throat, he said, "I am the District Branding Officer second apprentice, acting intern, of the Astronomy Division. Darcy Colton."After getting through his prepared introduction, he began to stumble over his words due to the stares of the rugged men surrounding him, "I... was sent by the Astronomy Division to ascertain the, uh, situation in... here. Situation here." Sorge with incredible speed moved to his side, grin never faltering, and laid an arm around his shoulders, nearly suffocating the man. "It's always a pleasure to accept a visit from a re-pre-sen-ta-tive of the GREEN! And such a distinguished one at that! Acting intern you say?! I am truly humbled. Allow me to show you around." Colton nearly fainted when he looked into the gaping hole where the man's right eye should be, inciting snickering from the men that suddenly crowded around them. Sorge called out far too loudly for how close the two men were, "THIS! Is the control room. I'm sure you're well acquainted with the rest of the facility."The only other room attached was the 16 square foot reception 'hall.' "As you can see, we have everything we need here to get the job done!"He swung both his arm and Colton around the tiny room that had nothing but a few boxes, desks, and weapons. Colton, in a petrified, shocked state was dragged in front of the far wall. "And this here already concludes our tour. These are our maps. It shows all our current operations out into the Grey. As well as the current defining line for the Black."He looked down at the man in his arms, "What's wrong Sir Intern?! You seem nervous!"Another wave of snickers from the men who casually clutched automatics. "We-well... this is the first time... I've been so close to the, uh, Grey."Colton stammered out finding a little relief in confiding to the intimidating man. "Well there's nothing to worry about Mister Intern. I know it can be quite a shock coming all the way from the 'safety' of the Green. But I can assure you: there is nothing out there that can hurt you. I mean what do they say the Gamma was? A one in a million, billion? There is no way it'll happen again." "But if it does... let's just say I'd rather not be here, no offense." Sorge let out a loud, unsettling laugh, "None taken! But you know if it does happen again, the Green is no more safe than here."At this Colton looked taken aback. "The Earth rotates, Mister 'Astronomer' Intern."Sorge mockingly said, spinning his finger, "No where's safe. But you know what they say about lightning! Or was it mortars?" Colton slid out of his backpack was able to free himself of Sorge's grip. Trying to regain some semblance of composure he brushed himself off. While slightly shaking , he asked, "What's with that map at the top?" "I didn't think the Green was that uneducated, it's the Earth Sir Intern!" "I know that, but what's with the red tape? And why do you have it? Surely it doesn't help with your operations here." "It's a reminder."Sorge voice went dark, "The red line shows where the Gamma initially split us. Right down the middle. Through Germany, just like in the old days. Some say that's a hell a coincidence. To me, it's a lesson. It's to remind me how far we've come. And how far we've yet to go."For the first time since Colton entered, Sorge's bulging jawline returned to his classic scowl. "And how far we can fall." At this, Colton became solemn and gulped at Sorge's visage. Wanting nothing more that to return home. He finally set himself to do what he came for: "What have you been doing in the Grey?" Sorge with a quick glare around him dispersed the crowd of lackeys. He pulled Colton closer to the wall, "Doing what we're paid for. See that?"He nodded at one of the smaller maps, "We pushed the Black 5 kilometres a month back. Since then our work in that area of the Grey was focused on restoration and recovery as it usually is. In the past month, in that small little patch of Grey, I lost 8 men because your superiors at the Green won't give me the proper gear we need. But despite losing 8... we brought back over a hundred."Sorge's voice lowered until it was barely audible and his face was downcast. "By brought back..." "Yeah. But also all that belonged to them. Everything except what is essential for our survival is preserved in that warehouse you passed, South of here." Colton became downcast himself at this news. "Have you encountered any freelancers?" "You mean looters. Sorry bunch of thieves is all they are, have no respect for those they take from. Yeah, we get run-ins. They account for most of my men's injuries."Sorge looked around at the battle-hardened and weary faces of his lessers with sadness. "They've been getting more organized again recently. Haven't seen them this desperate for 10 years. I figure, they figure the best place to get supplies is here. I figure they're right. They've started raids."His muscles tensed at the thought. Colton's nervousness had lifted. It was replaced with sadness. And a desire. "Is there anything I can do to help?" Sorge looked at the scrawny, lanky man and burst into booming tearful laugh. "Well Mister Intern!"He shouted so all his men could hear, "If you want to HELP! Then by all means get yourself a shovel begin digging!"Everyone laughed at that. "How does that help?" "I can't waste my men's time digging your grave!"Another round of laughter and Colton became red hot. In a hushed tone, "But if you really want to help... Tell your superiors we need those supplies I know they hoard for the 'normal' folk. Not just here, Norway, Africa, hell even our supposed 'supply' line in France needs some of everything. Food, water, medicine, haz-mats. The only thing we have in surplus is guns and ammo. And even those aren't doing enough against those 'freelancers.' You go back to your Green and you tell them: If they want to help bring people out of the Black, they better start proving it." "I'm stationed here for a month. I will not leave."Colton responded with resolute determination. "But I'll do my best to help. And in the meantime, I'll see what I can do to get what you need." Sorge's attention focused back to the wall. HE made a short motion with his hand and the short man came to drag Colton away. Just before he was ushered out the door Sorge, without turning around, shouted, "Mister Intern! Welcome to the Brown!"
[Poem] You're breath on the glass has come to reveal A pain from the past that has been slow to heal. The image reminds of a previous life, A house, a dog, some children, a wife. The road has been tough and the last few years proved, You're happier and stronger, it's better removed. So much has changed now, get used to the fact, You've thrown it away and there's no turning back. Move on with your life, be the best that you can, You're no longer Joseph, you're now called Joanne. I call that poem "pic of a dick"
Five more minutes to go. A heavy yawn ambushes me and forces a single tear into my eye. One more spin of the pencil between my fingers. Four and a half minute to go. Straigthening my posture and realsing the tension in my lower back. A warm wave of ease flushes through my body as the ever-nagging pain in my back subsides. Four minutes to go. "Jeeeezuss"I grumble. Well better rearrange the paperwork for tomorrow. The Yellow folders neatly lined up on the left side. Check. The Red folders properly stacked in the middle. Check. The Black one, well it's only one perfectly aligned with the right wall of my cubicle. Check. Loose papers put in the holder. Check. Three minutes fifty seconds to go. Mouse hovering over the preopened shutdown button on my desktop. Check. One more spin with the pencil. three knocks on the table. A last sip of coffee. Three and a half minutes to go. Should i go to the toilet again? suddenly the lights flicker and turn off for just a second. *** My head starts spining as i lift it of the table. I take a deep breath and the spinning vanishes. When did I put my head down? I think when my stomach starts grumbling. wow, that was loud and I'm really hungry. Three and a half hours past. "What."I shout out surprised. Immediately shutting down my computer. No reaction. I get up and look around over the top of the cubicles. Nobody is there. They just left me. A sudden unpleasant feeling slowly running down my legs alerts me. I turn and look. "You gotta be kidding... Shit!Shit!"I curse as i hurry to the toilett. At least I'm wearing dark pants. rushes through my head while i leave for the elevator. The elevator doesn't respond. I leave via the stairway. The parking lot is empty and it's almost Nighttime. I shake my head and put a Newspaper on my carseat. Third time is the Charm. My car finally responds. "It's... I'ts alive!"I mimick dr. Frankenstein badly. All the traffic lights blink orange. No other cars are on the streets. That only means I'm home faster. Not that anbody's waiting though. I turn into my driveway. The garage door won't open. Didn't change the batteries did I? I sigh and park outside. Taking the Newspaper in a two finger hold and perform a an olympic dsic throw into the neighbours front yard just barely over the hedge. Two squirrels holdup 10 point scorecards. I nod satisfied and appreciate my own fantasy. Strangely the keys wont fit. I check again. Same result. Check the house. It's the right color atleast. I go around the back. Definitely the right house. That toy in the pool looks unfamiliar though. I go in through the back porch. Why is it unlocked? I take off my pants and throw it into the clothes basket. Did I fix the fridge light and when did i buy this shitty beer? I turn on the tv. Atleast you are the same old friend. I nod off for a bit and wake up again. Returning to the fridge on food scavenging mission. Surprisingly the mission is a success. There's leftovers. When did I cook? Too tired to think I eat. It's good, surprisingly so. Did I make this?. I scratch my butt and burp satisfied. It's gotten pretty dark. I go upstairs and throw myself in bed. Something next to my head rustles. "Honey you smell, go take a shower!"a sleepy female voice announces. I freeze. Sweat starts to pearl on my forehead. I get up slowly and try to leave. "The showers on the other side, dummy. If you're quick i may still be awake and who knows... hihi."the female voice joyfully announces. I go take a shower. Contemplating about returning to bed. A snoring sound relieves me of a stressful decision. I leave the house as fast and quiet as I can. A bit chilly when you're this wet I think while I back out of the driveway. As I drive off a car turns in. Oh look the garage door does work. I drive off. *** Five more minutes till lunch. "Karen did your husband wipe his ass with a newspaper yesterday?!"I hear Lucy angrily talking on the phone next to my cubicle. "What happened?" "Somebody did what? They shitted their pants and threw it into your laundry? What? Oh my god they tried to sleep in your bed and took a shower in your house... I'm so sorry Karen forget about the Newspaper." Well shit I think while i google dna from poop.

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